In The Beginning Poem by Robert Rittel

They say, there was the word and nothing else,
in time endures becomes true wealth paralles.
When the word becomes the hyme of inspiration,
creating a subtle trust relation.
The infants first cry and thirst for life all passion,
all changes when the child realizes those guilts of admission.
Remembering very clear those false dreams they give,
more and more the false all evolve.
The more famous the pretence,
the more suitable as reference.
To the point of tickle sweetness to steal your heart,
making it a professional art.
Not long after when the promise false apart,
still shifting responsibilities trying to be smart.
For the soul by mental concept just painless verse,
while every word become footprints in stardust discourse.
All passion is nothing but a star to flash in distress,
not having the words in true tune sung with right intention bless.
Then the beginning still in existence of the greatest love,
by the dream maker in pure clarity from above.