When I was a child,
I thought and lived as a child,
And did childish things.
I built sand castles in the tide,
And dream castles in the clouds;
And had fantastic adventures
With imaginary friends.
My youthful discoveries were always tinged
With confusion or fear or wonder.
I exhausted my undeveloped strength
Upon juvenile goals,
And imposed my infantile will
Upon a capricious universe.
Like all immature beasts,
I was utterly self absorbed;
And after a day of delightful destruction,
Would fall into innocent rest.
When I became a man,
I thought and lived as an adult,
And did manly things.
I built empires on shifting sand,
And dreamt of realms beyond grasp;
And sought authentic adventures
With synthetic friends.
I learned to manipulate puzzlement,
To control awe, and conceal fear.
I learned to husband my strength
And manage my desires,
So that deferred gratifications
Could be savored in masterful triumph.
I knew the calibrated limits of power,
And the calculated power of limitations.
Like all virile beasts,
I was utterly self absorbed;
And after a day of stalwart destruction,
Would fall into gallant rest.
And when I become a god,
I will think and live as a god,
And do godly things.
I will make sand and clouds and tides,
For the adventures of brave men
And the amusement of little boys.
I will create enough pain to make them alert,
And give them an appreciation of pleasure.
I will create enough beauty to make them interested,
And give them a perspective for comparison.
I will create enough mystery to make them curious,
And give them a sense of accomplishment.
I will create enough consistency to make them secure,
And enough inconsistency to make them humble.
I will give them intelligence and emotions and senses,
And I will let their imaginations entertain me.
Their spasms of devastation and tantrums of expression
Will inspire them to entreat me for peace.
I will introduce chaos and madness into their schemes,
And witness them resurrect themselves from ruins.
Like all attendants of ignoble beasts,
I will be utterly absorbed with godly chores;
And after a day of delightful creation,
Will fall into ethereal rest.
by Argus Deiktik
... who is a combat veteran, a schoolteacher, and a freelance
writer.
