My Father the Fraud

So says he, what he believes,
But he does not live
The life
To which his beliefs lead him.
He is a fraud,
And I am the avenging angel
Come to redeem him.

And so he says,
I live in a fantasy world,
And I ought
To recognize that
The way we live our life
Can never be as we wish,
But always is and must always be
As we have to to survive.

But the soul cannot survive
As an empty vessel,
Crossing the rough seas
For no purpose but to cross them.
So he says,
I will feel different one day.
But does he admit
What day it is?

For in his own mind
Is he not on his way?
Is he not planning the day
When his life and ideals will match?
Has he not simply said
Not today, no
But tomorrow
And every day after that one?

He says he has made amends
With how he lives his life,
But he has only made amends with today.
Perhaps the week,
Perhaps the month,
Perhaps even the year,
But he has not put off until forever
Being as he imagined he could.

No, my father is fraud.
For, in his own mind,
Every night before he goes to bed
He says to himself,
Tomorrow is the day!
Tomorrow I will activate
All the long dead dreams
Of my misspent youth.

But he wakes up in the morning,
Instead,
And says he never did,
And he tells me
To get my head out of the clouds
And come join the rest of us,
Down here
On planet Earth.

Perhaps he will join me
Some day when he is ready.
Some day when the night is too long
For morning to remove it.