The Expectations Of Fatherhood

Categories Lifestyle, Meditation, Parenting

Dear son, dear daughter,
life did I give to you, but
live it for you, I can’t.
Spend it, not at the mercy
of grief and self-loathe,
but in the lawn sit,
at the moon proudly gaze,
and loudly belch out,
“Live my life I will,
for my father’s pride to win.”

Dear daughter, dear son,
many things can I teach you, but
to learn, only you can.
Guidance I can give, but
to lead you through, I can’t.
My hope I thrust in your palms,
forget not the teachings and values
that in your soul I have instilled,
with unconditional love,
even when life seems hopeless and vain.

Dear son, dear daughter,
freedom I can allow you, but
to account for it, only you can.
Like stars in silence shine;
through life’s challenges quietly soldier,
the bleeding and scars notwithstanding.
Assure you I do, that a shoulder
to ease the pain, I shall provide.
Your bright future I see,
though the world be unjust and unfair.

Dear daughter, dear son,
about friends can I advise, but
to choose for you, … I can’t.
Love and affection seek,
let your rays wave through
the oceans of your admirer’s hearts.
To your bright sun a path pave;
wisely carving to dodge earthly vices,
until beams of love your heart receives,
from a smiling sky.

I am an epic introvert, who quickly becomes an open book when I pen what’s in my significantly fertile mind; fertile as a result of bombardment by realities that are continuously captured by my inquisitive eyes, ears which are constantly rubbing the ground, through constant reading, and through dreaming too.

Writing provides an opportunity to ‘say’ what my unapologetic quiet mouth will not say; which not only soothes me, but also bequeaths to me a relief, a release, and a hope that the written words will change the world, even if only one person at a time.

And so should you seek, that’s where to find me; deeply tucked inside the blankets of reading, seeing, listening, dreaming, and then writing.

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