I’ve seen a certain hubris
An idolatry of valuation,
The sacred kept on a short chain
Of tradition and education
Who, upon passing an orphan
In oversized church attire,
Pats the beggarly head
With stature rising ever higher,
Dismisses the ruffian with a kind word
And the double-edged demand
(The child is easily banished,
As he is citizen to no land.)

This walking hubris turns
Fingers to the golden chain,
Pleased with the service he renders
To the sons who may remain
He condescends and reiterates,
Proud of his behavior,
But at the true center of his sanctuary
You will not find a Savior.

I’ve read the freshly fallen snow
Frosts the world as a wedding cake,
Smooth and crisp, sweet to know 
The world in pure and pristine flake
Yet my children don their war attire 
And carve out channels fit to pass
They chop and dig, stacking ever higher
All the snow they may amass
With buckets leftover from sandy days
They shape their castle walls
Pouring their work into their play
Grappling and clambering, their falls
Are buried in the foundation
Of the spectacles they build
The feats of effort and imagination
A marriage of fantasy and will.

If I should have to choose between
Untouched snow or their forged civilizations,
I’m forever grateful I have seen
All their passing, perfect creations-

Their evanescent ecosystems
Of icy delights.

My life has crossed a vast terrain,
A train through many foreign stations
And very little still remains
From the dawn of my creation
That world has aged and passed away
While the train increased in speed 
I have more now than I ever hoped, 
But remember my basic needs
When my journey began in lilting motions
As I waited for it to end
And all I had, all that stays the same,
Was some paper and a pen,

And my Eternal Friend.