Cut open again my little friend. I try to begin a thought but then desires for you to mend take over all things. This heart in here bursting for the best but I have no way to repair that which came upon you in microscopic formulations. Neural connections painted pictures, coloring outside the lines but here you are today put down thirteen times now. Cut, broken and bolted but you wake to mend again, smile and reach out across my fears to hug your tiny tear covered face to mine, begging me to take you home. I cry inside.
Mighty warrior at four short years, wherever a Zion may be I must believe you, me and we will make each day our own canvas upon which to create colorful kaleidoscopes crying out to the world all around about these profound normalities we swim through from sunrise to sunset and beyond. You paint with a brush most will never know. Broad based strokes; blues, greens and colors so bold I behold things these eyes have never dreamed but here you are pushing back the clouds of a father’s need to see his son trouble-free. Abandoning the way things “should be”, throwing down roads and slinging stars across dark skies you reflect something I still strain to find, but in due time. Yes, in due time.
I was used for sparks to pass through. They imbued you with certain things I never knew a child could do. Yet the simplicity with which you teach tenacity is far beyond the wisdom a billion books can bring. You wrestle me down to the ground with great gusto and laughter. Daily choosing to live, your spark shines bright, placing my eyes upon purity, releasing me from five hundred fickle bits of irrelevance. I pray to impart pieces of wisdom to you, yet the eternal river flowing from perpetual truth is watering roots within us simultaneously. Many moments I bend to break, but see your beautiful broad-based brush strokes streaking across the sky and all around. Within this love, life becomes clear. I understand the simplicity to just be…simply be.