In the cradle of youth as a New-Born,
You've been tended by sheer Destitution;
You have been played-with like a toy:
Emotions, humiliation and fear, make for your quilt
Whilst you lie on the mattress of dreams,
Unaware--unconscious mostly of what happens--
Who picks you up, who plants you kisses
And who feeds you with finer love...
Ever learning and about to grow:
As whiles your teeth sprout,
you begin to chew on things--thoughts, memories--
You begin to move you head to see around--
You even smile when Yearning tries to cheer you up
And Silence--with his clapping hands and hope-filled eyes--
Wont to see you laugh..to play with you...
In the cradle of youth, as you begin to outgrow
The Bed that embraced you:
You are taken out--to the ground, on all fours--
You gradually support your motion;
You try to stand and when you finally do
With uncertainty, you even fall,
But just to get-up again
After that same old Silence encourages you...
Your colorless cheeks blush at such care;
...You finally learn to walk and then you realize--
You have already abandoned the very cozy Shrine--
You have even learned to stand firm on your own:
And now, you move on to grab Propensity--
Who waits with open arms--
All this while, lurking somewhere within yourself...