The Ego's Nest
I be a branch of a family tree.
A behest of a conjugal quest.
A manifest of its alchemy.
Adrift the stream, of manifest.
Woven the cloth of happenstance.
Somewhere tween the bad and pleasant.
Paddling on the sea of romance
Going from past to the present.
From heir to heir the quest does bear.
The past is voiced my ego's cry.
I only know that I am here.
Above the branches where they sigh.
Within each decade flowers grow.
The new fruits from its aged vie.
To me the ones that I did sew,
They are the apples of my eye.
Within these hosts the future post.
And recall of this future ghost.