Born in a sterile hospital room
Died at sea, a centennial groom
Lost a third from wannabe messiahs
Now I chase storms and floods
Hackers and wildland firesBorn to run, cry, teach and sing
Born to bring joy and pain to those
In my social ring
Born to sound alarms and kick up a fuss
Born to mentor the next generation
The future heroes among usOn many an asphalt path
And many a busy freeway
I have wandered the bayous
And downtown street mazeThrough wasted years and fruitful moments
Through tearful fears and adventure roamingsThrough treasured sites and horrific scenes
Through bloody fights and love-making screensWith a sense of accomplishment
And a tinge of regret
With an urge to admonishment
And an explorer's netWith a leap and a shout
And a kick to a foot-dragger's ass
With a passion pure and devout
And access to a grower's legal stashStill travelling this long-stretched dirt trail
Until a dead end comes or a casket sealed with fresh nails
Still travelling with hope and eager expectations
The roads of the treasure map
Reserved for both the trembling and audacious~ Gunnar Våken