In the routine box of everyday life
where mundane normally repeats,
a boring exists as commonly good
entertained by all others tall feats
If extraordinary 'tis dream's desire
our waiting's surely not an answer,
and big wishes met before endings
ring up an unusually poetic dancer
Pushing sixty-four and somebody needs me
my ten almost eleven-year-old stepson Yen,
first born child of my Cambodian wife Eang
got asked in school if he had a father figure
replied yes, and the man's name is Mr. Marshall
when next asked what line of work his father makes
Won't be the sad Ebenezer Scrooge uncle
shan't act as mean, grumpy Uncle Grinch
can't feel me far away, aloof Uncle Forget
so, I play Uncle Young at Heart Ever Since
Got close again to what Buddha here says
since I'm alive in fine Cambodian country
reminded myself of the wisdom he knows
finding truths in his deep understandings
I'm heartened once more by this accuracy
such logic brings niceness's to well-being
yet remorsefully I'm touched by sadness's
as so many billions hath zero kind feeling
Same shit, different decade
forgetting kind compassion
still caught by hateful habit
of hurting people closest to us
No cause these temptations
to destroy and toss love's all
I'm remembering a firmness
mirroring gratefully humble
I adore my sister, I always have
will 'til I'm beneath green grass
I love my Sissy, oh forever shall
'twas true then yet still 'tis now
One more miracle 'tis really what we'll need
singularly rare, a phenomenal wonder freed
here inside us, portent poet Poe's been seen
glum literary marveling hope in every being
Since before, as in Neanderthal's feelings
pre-men imbedding pre-women's wombs,
when offspring became more than a drop
birthing an age of our unconditional love.
And when our miracle went,
long in anticipated awaiting
tears of pure, ecstatic loving
called up from bosom's deep
On the other side of disrespect
at old habits judgmental hedge
sits our eternally unwell family
stuck in sad and gloomy wedge
I wonder how this health of me
became played within bad mire
but here 'pon knowing I'm okay
I now release my baggage pyre!
Starting over freshly seeded in Earth
rising up to the fruitiness's epitomai
all 'tis new here 'pon our weariness's,
everything old now's withering away
