Do you sometimes muse over the far
distant past when your subconscious suddenly
jogs a memory of someone's attention to
the curiosity of a small child attentive in
a distracted but warm appeal to the queries
of an inquisitive mind imparting knowledge
and experience on the impulse to answer an
imperative to endow the generations with an
ongoing narrative of existence? For the child
who never looks with longing at the stars above
thinks about the vast expression of the oceans
below, the mountains reaching to the sky
and forests beguiling with their endless
variety in the endless seasons of life will
be forever mired in a deadlock of disinterest
the years of their precocious wonder passing
lacking the recognition deserving of an
agile mind in the result of passive disinterest
in forging brief mind-to-mind relations whose
impressions will far outlast communion between
child and adult. The memory piquant and timely
the result resonating in a nimble and reflective
mind for it does take a village to raise a child.
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