He was my only son.
I held him in my arms,
I dandled him on my knees,
I taught him all those things
his mother had ignored.

And there were gaps
of which I grew aware.
All that I wished for my son
was poured into my love for him,
And I was alive to failure
to provide much that was required.

But through the years of gain and loss,
of triumph and disaster both
unexpected and quite unexplained,
my pride grew seamlessly
as I always did my best
and was repaid in myriad ways.

And there has now evolved
a subtle but yet distinctive
alteration in our relationship:
a clearly visible but well-defined
role-reversal as he reveals
embarrassing concern for my well-being.

Apparently, I have now become
The child of my son.

Creation was an engineered design
and, if we are to believe the Scriptures,
planning preceded execution.
Since when there’s been no ceased attempt
to improve the initial configuration.

Biodiversity, extinction, reproduction,
new designs, new genesis, new formulation,
but who is the new engineer?
And what ulterior motive
stimulates the new creation?

The dinosaurs (and they were not the first!)
preceded the birds and the bees.
Nature needed no stimulation
beyond mankind’s ****** desire
To encourage or restrain procreation.

And now we have seemingly learned
by trial – but more by error –
how simple it is to fashion anew
an environmental disaster
with the portent of universal dissipation.

We have the statesmen and politicians
to thank for our lemming-like rush
to oblivion.  The next metamorphosis
may be the last – at least in human terms
without transubstantiation.

In linguistics
and in politics,
it’s a really small step
from creation to cremation.

Eternal peace I sought, in eternal solitude.
Yet eternity is timeless and it is endless.
When we talk of killing time
We are suggesting an end of eternal life.
But we are in it; we are of it;
We cannot end it; it is part of each moment.
It will, by definition, continue evermore.
What a comforting thought.

If only it were possible
To hold a mirror to my mind
And try to ascertain
If the image it portrays
Is true or a distortion.

What does the mirror show
When I move away?
How can I be sure that my
Reflection moves away with me?
If not, then the next viewer
Will see my face
And not their own.
How terrifying!

. . . in our search for immortality
we must not forget
that
all flesh is grass.
It’s better to die
having made the journey
than to stifle
one’s advancement
in the embrace
of adventure unfulfilled.

I choose to stay at home.

Wherever I go,
I'm still there.

So why bother?