If there was ever a good time
to make a name for one’s self,
to be who you are and actually be remembered,
then it is now.

When you are surrounded by malleable young minds,
or intellectually astute academics,
now is the time to make a name for yourself.

And whether you do it
via ‘good’ or ‘evil’
or whether you are understood,
does not matter to the history books.

Either way you will be written down,
you will continue to prosper.
Fine young minds will read about you
and engage in some sort of dreaming

About the man who wrote what he thought,
and wrote what he saw.
About the man who wrote the answers to his problems,
so he could continue forever more.

And as much as that seems so wrong right now,
history proves that at some time it will be deemed right.
And when that time comes,
this young poet, will have his night of nights.

For that time he will be remembered
as a young scoundrel,
a mischevious beast,
but he will also be fondly recognised
as the boy who brought fun to the feast.

Never a dull moment,
in this young man’s company,
he may always try to please you,
or to please me.

Whichever way it went
he worried about it often
until this feeling calmy departed
and he was left with intent.

To make this time important to himself,
to actually stand up and be proud.
So that one day his son would know
that his Dad was bigger than doubt.

His Dad fought for himself,
and held his own against many,
and he was put in these circumstances
in a way that was far different from any villainy.

At times he did not want to be found,
his head, buried deep under-ground.
Here he contemplated thoughts from above,
and his soul was like that white dove.

Which always creeps into our minds
when we think of something pure and great.
Just as his young mind was,
and will be forever more. It was fate
which showed this man the path
and gave to him the looking glass
which allowed him to see the world
in all its glory and in all its horror.
And so he turned this looking glass upon himself,
thoughts flowing through his mind as the pondered,
just what he may become given the chance.

The chance came and he took it,
many people were abhorred by what he did,
but this young man found comfort in history,
as it would show shows that he is not dead.

Not dead to the world, and now he won’t be, ever,
given the nature of this discourse it would be assumed
that this young man never presumed to be the best,
and such could attest to courage which would always find jest
in the hearts and minds of the most intelligent.
Here he would find some sort of foot hold,
and whenever he became bold this foot hold would fold,
and fall away he might do so.

But he never did fall,
and such that is why this story is being written…
Of a boy who was himself
and from this, found himself smitten.

Bitten with the love of knowledge,
compassion of spirit,
kindness of heart
and understanding of mind.

He always sought to cut himself short,
so he would not stand above the crowd.
Yet one day the sun shone through the cloud,
and his true height dwarfed the people around.

From this moment on he knew it was right,
to stand up to his full height,
and speak to this dark night;
just like his Mother taught him.

Fear knew no greater enemy,
and truth knew no greater friend.