John
Sixty-four years pass, and one wonders just
how a man lives up to his Christian name.
Does he shout repentance, rolling in dust
and ash, eating too little for his frame?
Might he give in to numinous visions,
revelatory tales of open doors?
A man whose banner would lead divisions
to the far North and, surely, other wars?
Or his acclaim so great that he would preach
at a king's death but end with his head flung
into the Thames? No ... more likely he'd teach
verse, named for the one with the golden tongue.
Happy birthday, John.
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