A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man

From the old man I received a portrait
A young man I knew somehow
And in his eyes some light shining
‘Twas a light I knew would burn out

This young man knew why he was posing
His old man demanded proof
That this child was his and his alone
But this young man knew some truth

Somehow this young man stood grinning
Behind a field and covered grey
And each freckle therefore accounted
Why I see them to this day

Why I recall this young man’s fingers
Tips printed, stained, faded and blue
He knew the apocalypse sure to be coming
Would be a rapture forsooth

I know this young man’s mother
She had an old, brittle soul
I remember this young man cryin’
“If I could, I’d make you whole”

But that old man heard whispers
He heard prayers said in the dark
And so a young man was taken
To pose for pictures in the park

From the old man I received a portrait
Of a young man I know somehow
His 9 year-old eyes look lived in
Just how my mirror looks now

I can see that young man’s reflection
After years, dimmed and cold
His hazel eyes lest their shining
Now glass pools, mossy and cold

So say a prayer for the old man
For I fear he knows what’s true
I pray he knows his god of love
Will see this young man too.

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