Born amid extremes
Created by someone else's dream
Nevertheless autonomy
Is built into
Your rhyming schemeOne hero born and named after
A pirated Hebrew deity
The other more than a decade later
Carries the title of
A Viking fantasyBoth are products of my
Youthful drives and ideals
And shaped by their mothers
And a bit of me behind
The wheelWe are spun out from the explosion
Of our parents' life choices
Though before in the pre-born etherworld
We are offered no vote
No voicesWe are raised for twenty years
Like corn in a valley field
With no guarantee
What the crop will yieldI am hopeful
As I bumble along
Trying to do my daddy job
With awkward or chaotic partnerships
That the end result is
Ripe and ready corn on the
CobMothers and teachers
Buddies and gaming preachers
GFs and circumstances
Both healthy and forlorn romances
All shape the clay
Year by year, day by dayWhat limited wisdom I can offer
What puny tidbits
I can proffer
I hold put to you
Like a shaking olive branch
Like a turd from the livestock
On a farmer's ranchThis instant, as the sun breaks out
From apocalyptic skies
I whisper to you, my sons:
"Choose the good
And never ever
Say die"~ Gunnar Våken
YOU ARE READING
Awakening II: The Poetry of Gunnar Våken
PoetryGunnar Våken poems, continuing to roll on . . .