A Father’s Epiphany
by Odin Roark

It will be missed…
One day.

Will it be flame’s crescendo
Licking close the listless musings,
Or diminuendo’s embers once afire,
Now finding adagio’s grace to simmer?

How patient, this invention called time,
Allowing energy its earned respite,
Awaiting occasion to create its need,
Igniting sentient alerts,
Creating the collective fervor inherent
With heart and mind in synchronous rapport,
The long awaited fusing of passion’s longing
With synaptic reason.

Such becomes one’s most guarded possession,
That persevering epiphany,
Defying pillage by the weak,
Gutting by the envious,
Quashing by the ignorant.

Lest there be evaporation by forgetfulness,
This greatest of gifts,
This cognitive awareness,
Tempered by love’s abiding warmth,
Remains creation’s perfect union,
The one relationship addiction meant to be.