Oh child, you crawl around and touch everything for the sake of discovering life’s potency, and you sit in the rain, beneath the sky’s cold humming. I saw arcane circles in your eyes when the sun set. Wake up in twenty years, when you’ll live among people and their cars and their dogs. You’ve become like them, living for routine: sleep, work, sleep, only interrupted by small tediums such as eating and bathing when you have time. You no longer sing sloppily back at the wind when it blows harshly; you’ve stopped crying when animals die on the side of the road. Sometimes I wonder if you would still be so curious if you didn’t have all the answers, if I kept you among the living.
