A poem to celebrate the late birth of Rebecca Lynn Koenemund:
Lady of Union, Princess of Wilshire, and Empress ofBy Bud Koenemund: Uncle, Godfather, and Lord Protector of Her Majesty’s northern possessions.
A dawn of golden dreams spills over us,
blinding our thankful eyes with tears of joy
as Nature’s majestic sunrise,
the blessed renewal of life’s promise,
melts the winter snow leaving a new spring.
A child to tempt the voices of Angels
to sing sweet songs of hallelujah
peeks out as we, being but mortal,
stain our cheeks for lack of words
to give worthy praise for this Grace.
Reverent prayers, answered with a precious gift,
now become humble pleas for the strength
of heart to prove worthy of this perfect child.
Each seeking only to provide a lifetime of peace
and protection from the sting of worldly woe,
to love unconditionally, to cheer the smallest victory,
and soothe after the most devastating of defeats,
to teach, and quench the thirst for enlightenment,
and to celebrate the brilliant splashes of paint
that create a masterpiece from a blank canvas.
This pure soul, innocent and celestial,
brought forth in love, enters and prepares to play
the many unknown parts meant for a life.
Pink fingers, the instruments whose talent
God will reveal in his time, reach out
to grasp at nothing, and everything.
And newly opened eyes search to discover
a world both fascinating and frightening,
full of wonder, and then, reluctantly, closeto float within the first beautiful dreams of life.