The Child

Why do we grow older and lose our way?

No more to remember the child at play

and those who do we label insane;

 to us they are societies bane.

We live in our fear we live in our pride;

we live in our heads while our hearts we hide.

That child dances still deep down in our soul,

that dance is our hope to truly feel whole.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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