Four Moments in Time:

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Mothers Birthdays Days in song,

Families trying, in jest, and in earn-est,

Striving simply to get along,

The moment now be blessed.

 

Bearing many sorts and wounds,

With staunch progression forwards,

Trials, tribulations, and alas, ruins, and Runes,

Leading speech in action beyond thine words.

 

An eternal student seeking,

The teaching of those ones alike,

Tumbetin did Di, with I peaking;

Illimitably left to right mines psyche.

 

Those things in life which bring this home,

Are chanced by God and self-reflection,

Art as painting weekly friends who roam,

Fervently to learn, in my First-Class redirection.

 

And yet, such art came later after me,

Modelling some unknown painter’s needs,

That romantically ambrosial aroma see,

Led astray mine unwise deeds.

 

These experiences, acknowledged insight rather,

Shall mostly belong much to my father,

For memories pertaining thus,

Suchness; such is life no fuss.

 

The irony, questions to this day remain,

While answers never find my name,

However, Ludwig did so point it out;

This silence simply means, non-doubt.

 

Wishing all the best it seems what’s worst,

For as Mark gaveth us the good word,

It’s What It Is, is always Life’s great thirst,

Now flying free; a noble Pheonix Bird.