against the world

♫a double octet for my mother and late father♫
  
my  
mother  
is the earth.  
her bosom swells  
with my every pulse.  
she nourishes my soul  
with  her  melodies  of  love.  
she  shelters  me  against  the  world,  
heals up my wounds, dispels the cold.  
calm and gentle as a dove,  
she knows what’s fair from foul;  
passions that convulse  
she quickly quells.  
for my birth  
thank her  
i.  
   
my  
father  
is the sun.  
behold the flame  
that ignites my call!  
he elevates my path  
with his constant radiant light.  
he keeps me warm against the world  
swept by vext quand’ries manifold.  
he is not perplexed by plight  
nor ill-consumed by wrath;  
there’s no trip and fall  
under his name:  
he would soon  
rather  
die.  
   
© Copyright 2019 June 20  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫