Sitting in Michael's Lap
Come near, my child, I bid you well this night.
I see you pause – is then my voice so strange?
Have you in truth forgotten my delight,
That you endeavor history to change?
Will you deny that I have granted peace,
When all about you, chaos held the rein?
Can you forget such rapturous release
As I proffered, when all you knew was pain?
Will you refuse each vision you have sought
Of happiness, to labor on alone?
For all your stubborn pride, you still are wrought
Of only flesh, and I am not of stone.
Oh foolish child, if only you could see;
You'd sooner vanquish Death than conquer me!
Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange...
--William Shakespeare, from The Tempest