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Clinching my teeth, my hand trembles 'cross the page
Yellowed scripts are all that's left of my last protest
My son, man of my youth whom I won't see in this age
Heed my words before I last lay my cold body to rest

While God dictates our story we write our own lines
Don't look to your brother to reason when and why
The Great Spirit that gives life, controls space and time,
Is the only One needed to make your heart fly
I was once young like you when I started this book
But stayed clear of the edges afraid of being bitten
Now this novel I read, grand as it looks
Is a beautiful story, but one poorly written

The words, not quite colorful enough to bend the sky
The plot, not quite thick enough to alter ocean waves
A closed book is my love, a million miles high
Though I shared with so few not a moment could I save
Could I take you in my arms unborn man of my seed
I'd implore, ‘Speak from your heart...don't fear being smitten!'
See not things I have captured, but what I could have freed
Joys I've taken not given, left in chapters unwritten

Though my body betrays me my heart, yet weak, is true
Raise your eyes here towards me, take advice from one older
Speak through words of love and each day will shine new
How time swiftly departs the first moment you hold her
She came and she went from chapters two to twelve
Words now seem out of place, verses seem out of rhythm
Chapter thirteen, a troubled soul sends a lonely farewell
In a song left unsung ends a story poorly written

June 28, 9:01pm
Copyright ©2001 Michael Paul