There once was a child who spoke in dreams. The meaning the understanding in rivers
and streams. The child was one with all that they saw. The light was a ghost the darkness a
claw. Words were extinct and
unable to bear weight. The sounds incomplete not expressing the core of what to
make. Every day the most complex tale in a blade of grass. Patterns too great
that simplicity has made crass. While I see a shape that bares little meaning.
The child sees a world awash in feeling. In each molecule a universe
lives. In every speck another side
it gives.
There once was a child who spoke without sound. In each crinkle of their brow a book
was bound. Most sounds are too harsh for the delicacy of thought. They
interfere with the true meaning which is sought. The light brought colors that
were outside of the spectrum. The beauty and brilliance was far beyond the
conceived doldrums. The essence so bright it can’t be undone. While I see a shade too faint to run.
The child sees a glow that rivals the sun. An experience of life that is second to none.
There once was a child who saw without eyes. In the core of
their being they were free of all ties. The world was not bound by the
limitations of mere men. What they saw went beyond the confines of sin. Were we so lucky to see as that one
does. To know life as again as the
gift it once was. To see the world without labels, boundaries or walls. To live
once again complete not fractured but in alls.
