An Ode to BabsAn Ode to Babs, in the DarkAN INTERACTIVE POEMBabs is not defined for you. It is for you to discover. The first poem tells the progression of my own Babs and the second poem tells the story of my older brother Tim. Each of us human beings might have our own self-constructed Babs that must be moved through, let go of (or let go of the illusion of?) and move beyond . . . to freedom? Perhaps later I will tell you the story of my Babs, about what the lines of this poem mean. ENJOY!Ode to BabsI am not Babs, I just am.Part of me wishes I had the Babs, back when I was young and could fully enjoy its splendors.Death it may have brought, but what a splendid way to go.Without Babs, I see with a clarity that pierces the soul of man.Should I wish I had Babs, and was blind to it all?What good the sight, when trampled by the hordes of the blind?Matthew© Matthew Barry 2007"Further Ode to Babs"