MY CHILDREN                            87




My songs are children to me
Made with love, desperation of need
To prolong my line
And evolve my mistakes

From a seed to flourish in the belly of desire
They’ll remain, a vacuum filled 
Notes to blend until consumed
By the universal sound

I watch them play by themselves now
Learning to be happily disobedient 

They grow with time
And change with age
But the first spark of infinity
From the human microcosm
Is Spirit
Lit to burn always

I hope they remember me
When I can no longer play, sing or write

I will stay involved
But let them find their own way
With this romantic vision of being
A father of freedom.