To fledgling twins, the breath of God’s a gift.
As both whisper “I think” to shifting breeze,
The winds of dexterous thought come to uplift
This child upon the wings of deeming ease.
Like Janus of two faces is the one
Who sees both sides of every story known,
Conceiving thoughts quite literally spun
As well as those of allegory honed.
Ideas fly about like butterflies
Whose feet may never touch the earth to land.
To make decisions, valiantly one tries,
But concepts shift like wispy desert sand.
May such detachment from the world around
Occasionally touch the solid ground.