Home Is a Myth That Must Be Recreated

Home is a myth that must be recreated
As every generation comes of age,
Placed by their own children on the stage
Precisely when their fantasies have faded.
Yet one is more than amply compensated
For playing well the well-wrought saint or sage,
As love wells up beneath the camouflage,
The truth that makes the myth immaculate.
How beautiful it is to be a father!
Emperor forever of a dream
Repeated through the labyrinths of longing
'Mid memories more true than what has been.
Sing, then, of myths that tie one to another
Deep beneath the bulwarks of belonging,
As tales begun before the words begin
Yet fabricate the worlds in which words mean.
You Are Our Knight in Shining Armor
You are our knight in shining armor,
Pilgrim of our plea,
The Atlas for our wounded world,
Our rescuer at sea.
You are the pillar of our hopes,
The deep bass of our song,
The strength that underlies our strength,
The calm for which we long.
You came into our house of dreams
And turned it into truth,
Entering at just the point
Where yearning shatters youth.
What could motivate someone
To bear another's load
But that most beautiful of lights,
The inner lamp of love.
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