There Was a Child Went Forth

There Was A Child Went Forth

There was a child went forth every day,

And the first object she looked upon, that object she became,

And that object became part of her for the day or a certain part of the day,

Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.

The moon and emanating stars became a part of this child,

And the nights ever circling mists, and the solemn dreams,

And the intoxicating hymns of a mothers soul,

And the echo of a dark wind, and the antagonizing ocean of sleep,

And the grasps of emotional warmth, all became part of her.

The infant blossoms of thyme became part of this child,

And the strawberry fields, and the flavors of summer,

And the juices that quench the heart and mind,

And the fields of golden grasses, and the melancholy songs of willows,

And the innumerable shades of feeling cast by them,

And the cool trickle of a cascade,

And the warm tears of clouds, and the beckoning storm,

And all the past thoughts of summer were locked within her memory.

Her own blazing eyes held the secret of generations past,

And deep inside herself was her mothers own child,

And the love is there, and the arms are open wide,

And the hands and fingers are alike, but the gold between divides them,

And the minds and eyes are alike, but the fear between divides them,

And they slip away as the ravine of generations widens,

And the feeling of disconnection remains within her throughout time.

She walks beside the waters edge, and splashes the scenery around her,

And she steps into a pool of freedom,

And it comes up through her,

To her ankles,

To her head,

To her soul, and to inner depths of her own being and is content to remain.

The irredecent snow is calling, and the mittens keep her warm,

And her heart glows beneath the down jacket,

And her hand is deep in her fathers glove, and he is proud,

And years after she still waits, and that snowman is gone,

And the time is gone, and the father is gone but still remains,

And the crystal palace still beckons,

And the fear is gone, and the skis cut into the soul of the mountain,

And the palace is carved by the planks of expression,

And the wind resists, and her hair is tangled,

And the eyes become cold, and the cheeks flush,

And the happiness melts through it all,

These became a part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth everyday.