Innoncence is a divine gift,
Which time takes away.
For you can keep it for life,
But lose it in a day.
Your feeble minds you protect,
From naked truths and blatant lies.
But with open arms you accept
That your destinies 'great men' will decide.
And so pawns you become;
Lackluster pieces on life's great board.
Happiness in your neighbor's home
You resent, with the miseries you hoard.
The days grow longer,
Years go by two-by-two.
But hope, it lingers,
And then you die, trying-to-do.
Your dreams you break down and destroy,
With cold, steel hammers of disappointment.
The bittersweet tears that you shed,
Leave you sightless; transfixed in the moment.
And now you're weak, and can't go on.
Your spirit crawls; your body, a carcass.
Torn apart, time-battered and worn,
Your spirit falters; your mind, a fracas.
You begin to wonder,
"Where did I go wrong?"
"What was my error?"
"Why did I hold on?"
Endless questions, spinning out of control,
And you feel faint. Your feet, they begin to slip.
Reaching out for a pillar of strength,
You touch nothing. Free-falling into the eternal 'if'.
But then you pause; everything stands still.
You're still here, aren't you?
Yes. Of course! I am and I will!
You feel it rising, coursing through you.
And like a child, you pick yourself up,
Off the ground. Your ego slightly bruised.
And you look ahead, before you look down,
At the ground. Your denial will see you through.
For innocence, as wise men will tell you,
Is for fools, and children, but not for you.
Because in life, we're quite readily taught
That what is for sale, can most certainly be bought.
Life, love, happiness and such things aplenty;
This list seems endless. A sorry tale indeed.
So we strive to get, and to hold on tight.
For letting go is death, because we always 'need'.
Or is it because we 'want', no matter what?
"I don't care how he got it, or when, OR why!"
An oft heard complaint, when we seem to have-not,
But it causes us to murder, to steal, and to lie.
Who is this man, a most belligerent beast,
Who knows not the value of a single life?
It is you and I, and the six billion, at least,
Who willingly pillage, causing our World this strife.
So, what of the child, that you and I once were?
Is he asleep within us? Or have we let him outside?
Or is he locked in a dungeon? Most cruel infanticide.
So, who is the child, that you and I once were?
The child is life, in its most pure form.
With nary a flaw and boundless innocence,
Going through life without precepts and norms,
The child is life; a limitless exuberance.
So remember the child, as you go through the day
Because life as you know it should never hold sway.
There's always a different way, path or route.
But you'll never know if you don't let the child out.
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