News for My Father

There's news abroad, a rumor to be sure,
bred, one supposes, from the Ancient Grudge
we bear against Existence, that in some
remote future, every father, regardless
of his estate, may order, in accordance
with a Model Plan, sons turned to perfection,
scions bright to carry on with exemplary vigor
the patriarchal glories, and daughters,too,
who, despite his just deserving, shall yield
a rare harvest of virtues-- wit and grace
to bear fine witness to his name, blessings
to last him to the end of his precious days.

Revision of the Master Plan is
certainly overdue, and most welcome to us
poor heirs to disproportion,
born scant of measure
to procure a father's pleasure,
or his notion of success.
But alas, notorious Existence
takes millennia to revise
what's fixed inAncient Rule
which grants Perfection only to Angels,
and condemns us poor Mortals
to the chancy povidence
of Love and Forgiveness to ease the burdens
of our humble state.

So then tell me, old man
with your tongue of wrath
and your heart of ice:
how should I live?