August 2002
Sometimes in my dreams, I hear
a child crying, but the child
doesn't know why. He doesn't know
he is about to be born, nor does he know
his fate is already unfolding inside him like a snake with no eyes.
That child is you, Cameron.
If I could, I would tell you
you have come to be king,
or to exceed all men in wisdom, or to struggle in the streets against injustice,
but only the gods know that.
Only the gods
know your one true name.
All I can tell you is this:
you are but one more small wave
breaking on the bright beach
of the world, and those of us
who have been standing here, waiting for you,
will honor you always for having set out
upon the unforgiving waters with nothing to guide you but the sound of our singing,
and your own desperate cries, rising and falling in the deepening light.