The, could have been,
Would have been and
The actual ones.
The ones you would have
Laughed, cried, and silently
Missed all along.
And as they learn to walk
Through you- some fall
And rise.
Some tumble off a rock
And break their head.
Some come out with a
Limp and you gotta hold
Hands to say it's okay.
Some turn out to be
Mute and blind-
To accommodate them
You learn sign language
And Braille.
Some will top the class,
Some, commit a crime.
The one you wouldn't
Have wanted will make you
Laugh and one you revered
Will, maybe drag you down
The street naked.
But is it immoral to have
Them?
Are you even worthy of
Making that judgment?
When you yourself- a poet-
A bastard out of an
Orgy in your head.
Why not let them take-
Birth out of the random sparks
In your head to run across
The lanes of their fancy?
To reach unintended places
To trigger more sparks-
That might melt down, all
The miserable strongholds.
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