MY SON

Art, poems and prose.

Come and perch on my newly-made stool,

That I placed beside our ancestral pool

For the falcon sings and the wind whimpers

Above the cluster of trees that shivers

In the wintry embrace of cruel winter.

Be prepared and let the powder dry,

For the world is full of darkness and gory.

Remember to find peace in suffering and pain,

Bet not your life for worldly gain,

And try to heal the world of all glory vain.

The Moon bequeaths and we see the sun

When day comes, the night shall run.

Let your friendship found the chords of love,

And forget not to be calm as the winter's dove

That hovers in the beaming sky above.

My son, First one eyes then the other,

For miles to go before you get weaker.

And miles to go before you can slumber.

Do not lose hope in the face of danger,

For your horrors and wishes shall be real.

SUN