The discolouration of innocence, from the struggle to be born. To the first breath taken you are aware, or otherwise you made it through the life stream. Who you become others will discover. In the meantime you have to cope with your emerging surroundings much stands before me.
For many earth years conversation is babble, that of the adult. They are supposed to be my guardians for my struggling emergence into what evolves, into a bear pit of woes and foes, sponsored by ignorance of the parents, determined to surpass one another in political institutions of hierarchy.
This whilst the truth of the wind passes change through all. I emerge discovering god gilt edged promises of everyone under the sun. My son is or will be equal. The innocence of this journey is broken up in terms of minds and flesh perish as potentials of innocence, either flower fresh in the morning, but withered by the sun’s power at the end of the day. .
