The Miracle

creation
A smack, a yell, I am alive.
I am the past, the present, the future,
Here to soar high with the eagles, dive deep with the whales.

I fly on the wings of words and ideas, ancient and modern
Call me Chaucer, Shakespeare, Marx.

I resonate to the sounds of strings, reeds, and empty gourds
Call me Bach, Beethoven, Shostakovich.

I move to the beat and rhythms of the mind
Call me Milton, Keats, Hughes.

I marvel at how Man struggles and wins
Call me Parks, Gandhi, Mandela.

I gaze at distant horizons, unknown, hostile
Call me Da Gama, Shackleton, Gagarin.

I celebrate the progress of science and knowledge
Call me Euclid, Newton, Hawkin.

I see colours and shapes as yet unknown
Call me da Vinci, Renoir, Turner.

I hear the voices of the people, commoners and kings.
Call me Christ, Mohammed, Buddha.

But now I am now named for another. An uncle.
Call me Keith.

And they proudly tell anyone who will listen
That one day he will pass his exams
And hopefully get a job with Network Rail.

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