When I grow old,

Today is my dad’s birthday. Like any dad he was like a god to me when I was a child. As me and my brothers grew up he spent most of his time pointing towards the real God, shaping and molding sons that would be among the living ones. When I look through the immediate faulty appearence that any human being (dad’s too) is restricted by, I easily find a fine heart of gold and a faith so bold.

Dad;
when I grow old and my life drains
— my blod runs cold, no power remains.
Forgotten by all, in chase of truth.
Obeying Gods call, ever since youth.
When I am done with life on earth,
— a setting sun, shone bright since birth;

then I wish to see, when looking back
at the life of me; I kept on track!
To see it contain your faith of gold
— that I may exclaim, life in behold:
“Look — it doesn’t lie — my life reveals:
My faith was a dye that fate now seals!”

Words heard in plenty — acts often few!
But be it duty, that this I do:
Treat faith like beauty — just like you,
dad!