Childless we grow too old,
For come the age of tender adolescence we’re told
Grow up you man or woman! Be
The adult we’d like to see,
Abandon all that inner babble
Of childishness, we are no rabble!
Put to sleep the inner kid
On those innocences seal this lid,
You can not be a child anymore,
It’s maturity for a threefold score.
And yet something silent sees this kill
While the inner child is rebirthed still;
And if not acknowledged it will scream
Mature tantrums like the American Dream.
I believe we’re ringed like a tree,
With layers woven as a tapestry.
The inner rainbow of every stage
Of our growth from birth to old age
Must be awoken and made well-round
So that our soul can fully abound
In this world of many lost things.
In such a way, live Queens and Kings.