Portrait of a Boy on His Second Birthday

You were unreal, a pool of shapes

before you entered this world.

When you are young, God is old.

Under my bones are millennia.

Within the marrow, the lust of moments.

You contained the divine element at the start.

Gaze upon a life of pathos and caress,

to strut through like you stole it yourself.

When you are old, God is young.

Infinity becomes finite to create space

for all finite things infinity surrounds.

You are becoming a container for the divine.

God is reborn whenever you die.

But of all beasts and birds that fall down,

I love you the very best.