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Life Without Faith

To Matthew Midgley

If I had wit and words to write my love for you.  I would not construct a poem whose rhyme and rhythm would pulse the beat of steady heart.  For I do not possess the skill and wordsmiths art.  I would be a poetic lumberjack with chip and splinter rough hewn by frantic axe. Letters strewn like sawdust on a page. And yet I must say something at this age when words compress.  Not enough time to say what stirs within my head.  Too much silence between us when all has not been said.
So I try: to guide and share and show.  Not because I wish to be the critic you sometimes perceive.  But because I love you so much I fear my heart will burst of it.
The finding of your own way is painful at times.  Oh yes, I know it has to be this way, a man must find himself and then the grace to share.  But in the pain of the learning, I would, if I could, spare.  And so I show and share!
Now you step out a new man with his bride.  In hope and love a lifetime side by side.  In love. And hope.
No.  Prose is best when all is said and done.  As the wise man said in Stromness on that windy day, “poetry,” he said, “is lazy! It can’t even be bothered to make it to the end of the page!”
Be not lazy my son for all the effort you will need to make it to the end, you must find within yourself.  With no magic man; shaman; saviour; redeemer to light your way, or burden.
In hope and love.  In love. And hope.

(2012)

Written for my sons wedding.

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