Profusion of confusion
Complexity of perplexity
Exclusion of conclusion
And you feel wired and tired at the same time
And you feel cheery and weary at the same time
Ignoring the real-time life crisis
Trying psychological zymolysis
Result is your psychic cytolysis
And you are in a turmoil
Your brain about to boil
From the truth you recoil
But . . . this is your life, so rife with pain, no gain,
And this is your choice to ignore your inner voice,
So what am I to say? This is certainly not my way!
I truly do love you and wish you all the best
And eventually, one day, peace and rest . . .
One day, some way
Someday, I do pray
There comes that time for birds to away-fly the nest,
And this is best as the Creator provides for maturity
In the surety of independence in security of the self
After being brought the necessities of life for a time
And taught the ways of night and day in this world,
But, oh, how hard for papa to let go, as the bard tells:
He would practically sell his soul to keep them home
And he could write a tome of all of the reasons why
They are not quite ready to fly away into sunlit day;
Instead, he sheds many tears and lets go of his fears
As he promises always to be near when if need calls
And they’re about to fall, but there is yet a farewell
The pain of which only parents can tell . . . farewell;
Not that they will not see them again as time spins,
But it is different — a sort of reverent suffering —
As the new birds fly high into the sky as papa sighs:
He once flew to that altitude with confident attitude
And an healthy amount of gratitude to his Maker . . .
Ah! But is his offspring not now flying higher than he,
And is it not supposed to be this way . . . yes, this day!
And so the generations pass with lad and lass gone
While the next one is given birth on this age-old earth
. . .
So it is and so it shall be
He chose the feast with fine wine over the garbage bin in the din of the world;
He chose lighthearted dancing rather than prancing through all of the rubbish;
He chose bright light, even amid the night, instead of fright in dæmonic blight;
He chose the pasture of tall, lush grass rather than pass through the wasteland,
And to drink from the cool, clear stream and beam with an heavenly gladness;
Yes, he chose to live an alive life instead of merely persisting in simply existing;
But he does shed some tears as he hears sad cries and sees those but living lies;
To know that one so near and dear lives in fear of losing what she never had . . .
Oh! It tears his heart apart like a fiery dart to his soul,
Which is otherwise a bowl-full of joy, peace and love!
But he has chosen the higher way, to live in the day all along this way of live life;
And pray . . . yes, he prays for the day his loved one will be set free into liberty,
But he cannot turn back to gloom and doom to save her; he is surely not a knave
Though brave he may be; he is wise enough
To know he has no place in such dark show;
So he continues along the highway in the brightness of numinous day every day,
And rejoices in the sunshine, laughing, singing, and glad to dine with fine wine!
Sweet voice around me
Better than a Christmas tree
Leave me here to be
God is on his throne
And this happiness is known
As this heart has grown
Future is unknown
But this father does not groan
He is with his own
He has no gift to give his children this Christmas
Except love, hugs and kisses . . . and a heart-poem
. . .
If I could give you a large mansion with room for expansion, I would;
If I could give you gold, as cold as the metal might be, I surely would;
If I could give you the stars so far away, I would give them one by one;
If I could give you fine clothing and a nice bottle of wine, I would do so;
If I could give you the moon, so soon would I fetch it down, all for you;
If I could give you cars to travel afar and a reservoir of jewels, I would;
Yes, if I could give you both all of this and more from some Santa store
Please know that I would, and allow this thought grow in your hearts:
I would give you material goods made of silver, metal, jewels ‘n wood,
But I can give you only my love and pray you do not shove this aside,
As well as my affection with no rejection nor reduction in my gratitude
For the two of you . . .
You both are my own gift as you lift my spirit to an heavenly altitude!
So with this I say, ‘merry Christmas’ with a kiss you surely won’t miss
I am so thankful for your answered prayer,
Especially after enduring so much so unfair!
I am so grateful that hateful attitudes
Have been washed away by affection,
And that you have reached a new altitude
In your once-strained, stained relationship;
What a surprise blessing that blesses me!
To see you so very happy and full of joy and
To know you’re not being played like a toy
Thrills and sends chills up ‘n down my spine!
What seemed so impossible became possible,
And night turned to sunny bright day for you,
And with no sleight of hand or nasty blight;
And I’m glad I’ve finally seen you not so sad,
Caught in a bad dilemma with ones you love;
Truly this was blessed blessings from above!
Ah! But time move on and the clock chimes;
All good cheer must eventually hear the call
To say ‘fare-thee-well’ and then sail away
Till another day for more fun and play . . .
My dear, you have to know when to let go;
You cannot cleave; you must let them leave!
Yes, you really can mess up
What was meant to bless . . .
Do not cling and bring an even worse curse
Than you before endured in fear with tears;
Know when to let go and say ‘goodbye’
Or you will soon sigh again in loneliness;
Oh, yes, I’m happy for you but worried, too!
If you tighten your grip,
You’ll frighten them away!
Be thankful, but with open heart and hands
Never particularly the cat lover
This kitty-cat hovered around
And was bound to win my heart
And so she became part
Of our beloved family. . .
So it has been for over 12 years
And now the tears come to eyes
As I cry when she cries out
Not knowing where she is;
You understand, she forgets now
And gets frightened when alone,
And she has to be shone her dish
With the wish that she will eat
Rather than simply seat herself;
Kitty doesn’t see as well either
And is easily scared
By rapid movement;
Nor does she move as fast,
And is past quickly jumping;
My dear kitty-cat has grown old,
And I don’t have to be told . . . no;
No, it won’t be very long, I know,
And when that day comes
I will openly show sorrow
For my sister-companion,
And I will have lost part of my heart