My hood

My father was a writer
and a great man, and
his father was a writer,
as was the one before him,
and he was a great writer,
too.

So that I got confused
sometimes
if greatness came
from being a man,
or a father,
or a writer,
or all of them at once,
since the attribute
"great"
seemed strewn so carelessly
among my forefathers.

As for myself,
I am a man most of all,
then a father
and a writer last,
but great I am not
in any of these,
be it character
destiny
or occupation.

I can spell very well
and I can raise a storm
from a single drop of
holy water.
And I sprinkle my verse
with fairy dust
to make it fly.

My greatness is fidelity
to all things I observe
from the lowliest love
to the highest hatred.

My smallest word is
"I"
which I use as an eye
to look around
from under my hood.