We each bring our truest selves when we start,
yet, we’re told we learn what we’ve forgotten.
Driving so rapidly past our days and scenery,
we grab a snapshot of whatever we can hold.
Doing so, we must lose the whole, the essence
of our experience, what is ours alone to share.
And, really, in the main, we and it want good.
Still, we battle, what we are aware of and what
we know without thinking about it or reflecting.
We are born so complete, we understand truth,
until we learn the language of denial in our youth.
What we know we know, we are told is wrong.
That we are stained before we ever came along.
What a sad tale we learn, yet it’s hammered home
until only the most innocent among us knows.
The so-called strong, conquering imaginary foes.
More honest, Quixote with his windmill giants.
If we understand this truth, there’s hope, we may
yet spread the innocence which beauty brings.
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