My child has finally been born.
Thy world awaits ye beauty.
Yet I must hide thee from scorn,
So I take thy to a place that’s gloomy.
Though thy has beauty, ye shall have more time
For thy world can not see thy flaws,
I have created from a spectacle of my mind,
That came from thy simplest thought.
Ye still have time to grow,
For thy world can wait some more,
Thy marks are still left to show,
From thy time thy was born.
When thy gets old and ready,
And thy heart finds an omen,
I shall show thy world to keep steady,
And release thy beautiful poem.