Dimanche, le 8 mars 2008

The portray of the first sun in the morn
As the child’s innocence is born
To fade away
And be greeted by the moon in the dark night

Exclaimed the people:
The child has got to grow
Grow my child! Grow!

The child held on to her spirit
Why, must I?
She enquired

To move onwards, my child!
The world has much to offer to one who grows!
One needs to survive in this difficult world!

The child looked onto the mirror
Her hair caressing her brow
A tear drop flowing gently through her cheeks

At the heaven above, her round eyes sought
Fortuity would have her be grabbed
By the tender arms of the giant light
And be cradled away
As a lullaby would mull the air

Alas, in solemn unaided thrift
Overlooking our promise
We fall on the rules set for us
Diminished in our faith
We give into the world

The child spirit finds a safe haven
Beneath the cluster of our thoughts
And whispers
“Why have you hidden me away?”
Upon our deaf ears.