It takes a child,
To measure our pride,
To softly know of simple love.
What wonder is finite
In the universe of imagination?
By what measurements can we justify
The boundless design of simple curiosity?
There is hope beyond the ‘me’ and ‘mine’ of early ignorance.
An amalgamation of then and now.
It is the breaking lose of joy that accompanies compassion
It is the skipping of rocks across a pond,
And the simple sharing in water in singular moments.
Yes, it takes a child,
To show me the way back.