o b i t u a r y

Unto you, an idea was born,
Premature to the hope of a man and a life.
You knew that man… 

But now,
Now you know him  

You know him like you know the disgust of regret
Or the pain of the truth 

Once, you found him to be repulsing to your lifestyle
Your life, so edgy and willing to rove like nonsense.
You were nonsense 

But today
Today
You find him to be
Intriguing
Hopeful
Invigorating to the deprivation of your dreams.
Your desires for humility and
Tranquility 

Don’t you remember the grasp you had for it
like it was yesterday
You burned your braw to it,
Lashed your tongue at it
And thrust your begrudged fist in the air
Out of anger of disgust. 

And there, an idea was born 

But long since the await
My Hope has made me feeble 

Did you really think that drive would always
Be there to help convince you that mini vans were evil
Did you think that the passion would never die. 

You spoke out against it,
And now your tongue becomes thickened by it
How much longer before you sell it
Hell, I’ll take one 

Cause Unto you an idea was born,
And You held it
YOU Held it too long 

Unto you I was born
An Idea
But now I am feeble,
And This is my obituary
I am Michael Hunting