My Son was born.
At the Nativity Feast, my fathers boasted, were proud and asked me,
“What would you have us present to your Son?”
In my youth and foolishness, I said,
“Give him Tomorrow.”
They were troubled and replied,
“Reconsider this, for the only certainty of Tomorrow is death.”
“Yes!” I answered. “This allows me to give him my gift; that of hope.”
My fathers frowned, “You ask for time, for an interval between deaths.
This is something we would not have asked, even for you,
Let your Son be and not become.”
Then I created a devil. For I said,
“I ask of Tomorrow for my Son so I might have Today
And give to my fathers Yesterday.
I would burden my Son with numbers, not names.
I give him a future to glorify myself, full knowing
I shall be his Yesterday, as you are mine.
I ask of Tomorrow so he might one day think of you and remember me.
I would create his future to give you a past.
I would have a Son of desire.
For I am a God of becoming.