Dear Father,

I cannot say why
Or what good it could possibly do,
But I miss his face
The world is nothing new
And everyone feels
Like repeating vibrations
In measurable spectrums
But he radiates in isolation
Some kind of unique pulse
Outside of the white noise
Of common parameters
If I had a choice
If I had a chance
If I had anything of worth
To proffer or promote
To share the earth
Beneath each other’s feet
It would be my gravity
To be his blessing

But I am woefully insufficient
To hold such a masterpiece.