ONCE ALL WRAPPED UP IN INNOCENCE!
Once All
Wrapped Up In Innocence!
I was born a
bouncing baby after punishing my mother for nine long months. Her precious womb
became my private gym where I learned to kick as hard as I could.
I tortured my sweet mother with endless
vomiting every time she took in something I hated.
What is the best day
of the week to be born? I was born on a Friday but have no idea whether it was
day or night. Friday therefore, becomes my favourite day by proxy!
I was shrouded and wrapped up in innocence.
My fisted tiny hands stood for purity hidden in my fast beating heart.
I believe babies
are born with faster beating hearts than regular persons since their whole body
is still under construction.
The development of all vital organs is more
urgent for the baby to survive this hostile environment we live in.
I mistaken my tiny
feet as some little play things as I sucked my toes every time I had a full
tummy.
Little did I know that one day, these feet
will become my transport as I took off into the unknown, going around the
circles of life.
Wow, what about my
tedious mouth? Open to suck when hungry and employed my tongue to assist me
when crying in protest for whatever reasons only known to myself.
My squirrel eyes stared at any thing new
for extended time, trying to figure out what in the world I was seeing.
You see, my
undeveloped and all new brain couldn’t help me interpret what was going all around
me.
This world was designed by the Almighty God
to dazzle us from day one into our last day on earth.
There’s not a
single human being living or dead, who has completely exhausted every inch of
the beauty of this world.
Once all wrapped up in innocence, comes
only once as our minds learn to interpret for us who and what we are.
Remember, as
babies we’re given names in order to learn to identify with self, thus enabling
us to point at me, myself and I!
Without self-identity I’d have continued to
grow to just a faceless blob and endlessly floating around to nowhere.
Once all wrapped
up in innocence. Memories are dreams realized and deferred. God designed our
ground into all different shapes, slopes and terrain.
Walking on the flat ground reminds me that my
horizon sees what I cannot see hence the need for speed to hurry up.
Going up hill and
finally summiting on top of this arduous and challenging mountain, gives me a
moment of relief.
I need this moment in time to consider and contemplate
my next move.
Nobody can spend
the rest of their lives slouching on top of the mountain. I was born to be on a
constant move.
Life demands I go down and continue to slug
it out and find my way through my cloudy days into sunny blue skies!
What the hell
happened to my childhood sweetheart? I thought our innocent wild fantasy was
going to land us on top of the world one day!
Once all wrapped up in innocence. After all
these years and decades, I took time off to look back over my shoulders.
What happened to all
the disorganized worlds I left behind? Is there some way God could help me go
back and fix a few things I have messed up?
Once all wrapped up and shrouded in innocence.
I took time to examine my feet, my once tiny hands and my not-so-clean mouth. What
about my eyes and ears?
My silly mind
always tries to justify all the erroneous steps I took in life, as just what it
is! My heart disagrees and decries the loss of my innocence and direction.
Once wrapped up in innocence. Our innocence
just like our milk teeth as babies, was not designed to last a lifetime except
to be used as a foundation into proper growth which shapes our moral world!
Once wrapped up in
innocence. We spend our lives chasing the wind and shadows.
Following all kinds of relentless dreams
and eventually ending up in complete helplessness… just like where we were as
tiny babies!
Sometimes I just sit it out in my darkest night and reminisce about
years gone by.
I recite all my what-if and what-about till
I doze off! Shadows in the dark blinding my eyes.. can’t find my shadow in
here!
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The author would really appreciate your constructive comments based on how you understood and interpret each poem. Poems can mean different things to different persons and all views can be correct as long as they conform to the contents thereof. This is the beauty of Poetry.
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