The Great Inventor

The Great Inventor


 
His mind, a forge built where brilliant sparks flare,
From nothingness, he’d craft with skill and might,
Invention born from day and through each night,
As if he’d breathed creation into air.

Life’s trials weighed heavy, burdens hard to bear,
Yet he’d confront each challenge, fight each fight.
But death, that thief, took him from our sight,
Its cruel hand struck, a loss beyond compare.

Yet time moves on; it does not pause or sway,
It holds no mercy, offers no reprieve.
If he were here, his words would light the way:
"Go build your dreams; in what you make, believe."

In honoring him, we rise and play our part,
To shape the world with our own hands and heart.


Previous poem 2019-09-29
The Great Inventor

A poem dedicated to my Uncle Stewie
Always impressed by his great mind
He would come up with things that bind.
Invention here and others there,
Could he have thought to invent air.
He knew this life is a struggle
Sometimes he found it was double.
Unwelcome death, your like a thief,
sickle striks hard, still in disbelief.
Time is something we have today,
It will not cheat or lead away.
If he where here he might just say,
Go and build something great today.

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