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Sitting in the beauty and wonder of the mountains makes me wonder…

How can a world filled with so much beauty…not be beautiful?
How can a world filled with so much wonder…not be wonderful.

Then I hear the news reports and think of all children caught up in war…
who have not been as fortunate as me…
My only experience with war is from those reports I see on TV.

As I think of all the treasures in life I’ve gained…
I can’t help thinking of all the treasures those children have lost.
for of all the prices paid for war and hatred…children pay the highest cost.

When I was growing up my heart knew only of love and innocence 
my world that was not war-torn
In that environment my imagination ran free…my insight was nurtured 
and from these my dreams were born.

When I grew up if I found a stick upon the ground…at that point I wold have decreed
it was be a magic wand, an enchanted flute…
or the sword of a knight in shining armor atop his trusty steed.

When I grew up I would start singing for no reason…making up my own tunes…
a box could be a fort, a castle, a pirate ship…or a rocket to the moon,.

When I grew up a leaf in my hands became a boat 
to throw in a stream to see how fast and far it goes…
my feet were to be splashed in puddles…
mud…to be squished between my toes.

When I grew up stones were to be skipped, trees to be climbed…
everything was to be explored.
my childhood was filled with wonders…which now in my memory are stored…

But for children of war…whose beauty has been destroyed…
will their world ever be beautiful again?
For those whose wonders have been shattered…
will their world ever be wonderful again?

Yes…as I sit here gazing out my window…I can’t help thinking
in war…the highest cost
is always paid by the children…
the moment their beauty…their wonder…their innocence 
is lost.
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