Of sons and fathers

Unsullied eyes, in silence, soliciting,

A warmth like no other emanates,

As you look at my being, I see,

The father, the son, and me. Solitary.

As I am my father’s son, a son you are to me,

Not a continuity, but a chapter,

Not a story, but an account,

With every moment shaped and shared,

Memories of my own emerge.

Those caring hands I felt, I now impart,

A spirit that never wavers, and a mind that looks above,

Teeming with gratitude, committed to a foothold,

And cherishing that which is valued most.

“You are my son, with whom I am well pleased.”

My gift, my prayer, my peace.