Call me Jack.
Johannes Factorum.

While my heart longs for rapture,
my hands are Terra-bound
and flawed.

There is nothing I call my own —
no exceptional talent,
no remarkable skill,
no noteworthy knack.

I eulogise those who transport my soul
(the Leonardos,
the Blaises,
the JJRs,
the Yo-yos)
in wonder and beauty and joy.

But mine is to dream,
to plod in practicality.
And I’ll smile when I recall
that Robert called William “Jack.”

Johannes Factorum.

You can call me Jack.