"Genesis"
I’ve got this file called ‘Started Stuff’
That floats around my desk
Like diamonds still considered rough
Not quite Fellini-esque
For fate they wait upon each page
Their ideas un-extended
Like scotch and wine they come of age
To marry their intended
Until they do, each word of truth
Plays havoc on my hunches
Within this isolation booth
Where wisdom pulls no punches
They postulate their plaintive wails
These words so rich with promise
To prosecute in sacred jails
The fear of God within us
For should a thought not find its way
To love’s reincarnation
It haunts my conscience night and day
With goading irritation
So blessed am I to have this thorn
Imbedded in my talent
For if it weren’t, what a yawn
Life would be on this planet
John Christopher
1988
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