From the sidelines, I crawled around as a small boy.
Dreaming and living a meaningful and significant life.
Tooless, I wandered, dreaming a little less.
Trying to light some candle, but burning myself and others.
Like a curious mole, peaking its head outside its burrow.
Is it curiosity or hype? Or some felt hint that this is survival?
And when the mole sticks its head out boldly,
The hawk, the snake or the strong wind shut the little thing down.
But a human child is different to an animal; it's wants and needs are unclear.
A child within formative years cares little about territory and hardly about survival.
Love, laughter and presence; the inner child echoes faintly.
All conditional to the environment they're in.
The human brain is a strange gerbel, it's like a highlighter.
"Why am I doing this when others are having fun?" The little boy thought.
The formative years' brain, the breath, the body; wanting connection,
But later playing a series of games, all for the same thing.
Connection and peace are synonymous!
There is a child within us all, playing with a switch.
Or is it the valve? As children we may enjoy both but as adults, we yearn for the switch.
Leave the child, screaming in the middle of the shopping aisle?
The child and its adult, the most complex maze of life.
It's harder for children than ever.
Technology and all that.
We're wired to more than just our inner 'child' these days, to genuine ingenuity!
But don't forget, nothing within our reach is hard wired more than them formative years.
So I confess to my child within, and might as well to all around.
Quoting Oprah, "I had the disease of people pleasing."
But I didn't try to please you.
I'm grateful you're still here.
For I know you can go silently and forgotten.
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