Children, how they are and how they grow and how they change . . . |
The schools are filled to bursting with youth.
Youth and vibration. Vibration and joy. The children, always in motion, are everywhere, On the buses, on the streets, on the ferries. Like flocks of birds, they shift and congregate, Gather and separate, clamoring, whispering, Shouting. They flutter and they preen. They pace And they argue. They focus on their companions, Seeing no others as they walk in their empty world. They are leggy and winsome, smiling gently. They hold the fragile beauty of the very young. They knew they are steeped in wisdom, That they walk secure in the midst of life. They are unaware of their vast innocence, Unaware that they walk only on the edge of life. They are of the world, yet not part of the world, As they move through the rhythms of their days. They are the future, born from the past, Springing from the shelter of their parents, Clothed in sweet purity, winging like arrows, Spinning into the future, soaring and leaping. Some will fall and some will rise, and Some will vanish into eternal darkness. As they are now, as seen on this clear day, All are filled with brightness and beauty. Yet, that beauty is transient, ephemeral. One not too distant day, it will happen. Each of these glowing creatures will change, And, in that process of growth, of expansion, That innocent beauty will be cast aside, Left behind in their wake as a chrysalis is abandoned By some strange new creature who will dwell In the new century, born into a universe Of turmoil, filled with pain and strife. These new creatures, these new beings, will, Through great effort, bring into existence Another generation of beauty and joy And each of these new parents Will be amzed at the nature of the new Entities brught forth by them, From this generation into the following, For each generation is startled by the next, And thus it has always been. Though they come, one from the other, The second cannot ever walk back to Stand with its predecessors. This new flock of vibrant birds Must fly alone into the future And never look back, no, never look back. They must not weaken but must lift their eyes To the next challenge, the next generation, The new world aborning. |