leave the child where it quietly sits
Leave the child where it quietly sits
In the center of the swarming room where
Systems form, rupture, and fall into pits,
Abounding with wan mounds of thin grey hair.
Minds mold hands to create models, crisp and
Independent from the chaotic mass which
Grows mindless as the green tree from the land,
Land from the tree, and dust from a dry ditch.
In a swirling room, the calm child plays with
Oblong blocks and builds a fair static form
Rising awkwardly to grasp at the myth
Afloat in the air, buzzing like a swarm.
To disturb the child seems to me unjust.
One must learn to accept a myth with trust.
For background on the poems I’ve published on Medium see “about these poems”