“Don’t limit a child to your own learning
For he was born in another time” – Tagore
A torrent of desire, warm as coal on fire,
like blood, ablaze, flowing through,
only the red silhouette on the black night.
Silent, but not still, finding its niche but not settling,
being forced to flow,
flow past its place and into the mighty blue,
wherein it may finally find solace,
if not as what it wanted,
yet, as what it knew it would be,
devoid of power and grace,
an obituary to its existence.
“It is good to have an end to a Journey, but it is the journey that matters in the end” -Ursula LeGuin
“Let not their fears be your own, whoever they may be” – YT