I can just barely remember a time when I saw all
through a lens of pure wonder. I never stood
looking at the ocean
in anything other than a bewilderment
and an urge to experience - a concept
which I had yet to understand.
I remember a time shortly thereafter
when, looking out over the familiar, a feeling
approached and cloaked my soul
in an innocent joy that lay bare all life
in naked glares and sparks of celestial
light, seeing all as pure, as it was made to be.
I then remember the tearing
of my glorious cloak from my young shoulders
and the fierce hands that grabbed
in envious lust, throwing all down
to dark, damp, and murky, and leaving me
to rot in an enclosed well of decay and despair.
I am, at this time, coming to the truth,
that by dwelling on the bright entrance
to this deep hopeless well I will find
that my home is still waiting and
my cloak is still laying out in the real
world of innocence and eternal youth.
I, therefore, need to hold fast to the hope that once I so intimately knew.