I am with them
I play animatedly, happily for now, with
The little one arrives with her plastic
spoon and steel tumbler.
The elder one starts telling me a story
from last nights horror show.
One eye upon my little one who wants me
to play music
with a plastic spoon in my hand on the
held precariously in her little hands,
while the elder one holds her freshly
made clay letters
for appreciation and inspection to my
I am with them:
hands, eyes, tongue, teeth, lungs, skin,
bones, mind, the whole of me,
You made me
No, my daughters will never know the man
you used to meet in the lectures, for I
am not that man.
You made that man of me, out of me.
Thank you, for making me
every time we met, at least a
For a class of demi-gods, nothing less
Together we were: the magical world,
alone, I am: just a faded snap of that
I live those days in dreams, and feel
that high again.
That world has gone, and time never is
the same again.
Stay in touch, all of you.
I can't afford to lose you.
For you make me wish to be what you
think I am
(and I know I am not, but wish that I
A father is born once more with his
and lives once more in the Eden: its
I did not want that twinkle leave my
if not ever, then at least as long as
she remained a child.
When does it end nowadays, childhood?
Once it used to be eleven, no, ten. Or
was it nine?
Back then, in my time, inocence was
stretched beyond ten.
Nowadays, in her times, it ends at
seven, or six, maybe.
She knows, for instance, when to look
away form the screen.
She also knows the laws of
She knows that girls and boys are...,
They talk, those children her age, among
They know much more than I think they
I can now feel how He must have felt,
when He had seen that innocence lost
in the eyes of the first man,
his pride, his child.
Yes, I live
Do you remember the first time your
rose in the air, spiraled, went down
once, then up?
how I watched and cheered from my
terrace while you
strove to hold your spool and fly it
how your mother came running when we
shouted with glee.
I remember the proud gleam, her eyes.
many more things; days, faces,
That time is gone, long gone are you,
through my days and nights mostly in a
where you, and they dont belong.
(when I have time to think) of those
times for time
is a place where I go and live once more
Yes, I live.
For write I must!
I wrote after twelve at night, after
at home had gone to sleep, for nearly a
I had heard from those who know that it
Well, it didnt.
So I changed the method. I wake up now
at 6, and write. Why do I do that (not,
why I wake up)?
Why do I write?
Because that's my gift, probably the
only gift I have.
I write to please myself.
I need to rise; I need to write,
for that is my gift, probably the only
So, I write.
I write at three.
I write at five.
I write whenever others are asleep
and there's no sound around.
For write I must!