Reaching towards the Son.
I hear you cry, but where? Where do you hide?
Your shadow looms, yet never blocks the light.
Exist right here, if you may please abide,
and let me hold you close with all my might.
You would be beautiful, taller than I,
stronger than a black bull, with wits to match!
Accompany me as the time flies by,
Wrestle and lay in that sodden dirt patch.
All that you touch would turn to gold–harden
–and life would breathe a breeze, however brief.
Such a pretty house, a pretty garden.
Let not my heart live in that distant grief.
So revel, please; laugh for me; faint with joy!
I will see you one day, my golden boy.