Willow and Oak
Child of Willow, Child of Oak,
Where comes from thy innocent strength?
Curiosity, perversity, intelligence, wit:
An ability to dream the world thou hast knit.
With amazing grace you ride the worlds:
the electron
the fantasy
reality
and not.
Sometimes I wonder: What will you be?
Where will you go in this life?
Something tells me
you may never be rich or known.
But you will be
what you need to be
To be true to you.
So many ways, so many roots.
They wait, for you.
Child of Potential,
Child of Endurance,
of Strength,
of Joy.
Hold on, lad,
Hold on.
Just the most impossible thing to do.
Grow, be, exist:
the judgment of an adult, the eyes of a child.
Who am I?
All of my life,
I have believed...
This dreams are tired.
Time has a funny way of showing up.
Chaos will find you. Things don't fit.
Don't understand?
Welcome to my world.
Holding places, change dynamic
Mending hurts and soothing fears.
Sight and sight, almost knowing:
I am who I want to be:
I can be anything:
All I need is need.
What I want, I do not know.
I don't grasp, I don't see.
In the end, I am duality.
I am balance.
I am a part, and I am
apart...
of everything.
It's the Way of
the World.
Never resting, never done,
Within this rotting promise:
Day to dusk, dreams to day,
Hope tends to be a mile away.
In the multifaceted twilight,
You can feel the frail grasp of serenity.
But, it is not to be.
Shadowed emotions of hazed sights
clouds true judgment.
The beat of unfeeling screams
States to our everlasting pride
at our accomplishments.
Frenzy, haste, change unbound:
chaos holds this new age,
this new visage.
Hold your head up proud, child:
You have been born
not to hate
not to love...
You were born never to care at all.