The Strange Bequest

There was a man, a slim man,
whose head was bedecked
with a white cloud
and whose eyes saw dreams
he could not articulate.

He sat one day staring into space
and when I questioned him, he said,
`I am sitting and watching the grass grow.’
I hesitated far too long
and have lived to regret it.

I wish the courage had been mine
to have asked him
to share his dreams with me.
For he bequeathed to me
a mind that does not rest.

I have the thought that his faher
and father before him
wrestled the same misty vision
which now is mine to set in motion.

I question this strange bequest,
for I have not
the staunch heart required
to lay to rest my ancestor’s anguish.

Papa, I plead now,
to replace my heart with hot ore,
inject me with a vial
of celestial courage
and fuse my spine with tempered steel.

There is so little time.

2 Responses to The Strange Bequest

  1. John October 5, 2012 at 4:42 am #

    Oh, how tired the bodyHome to the searching mind.Is there no rest in eternity?

  2. Veronica October 5, 2012 at 9:59 pm #

    John, we were told that life is everlasting. It is a universe of no retire.

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