In the world of trains and tracks,
where time drifts on like a cloud,
a child forgets the ticking clock,
immersed in what feels right now.
He doesn't see the world watching,
nor feel the weight of their gaze,
for the joy of the rolling train,
is all that fills his young mind.
With every kick of the round ball,
he's not chasing praise or pride,
he's simply caught in the rhythm,
of being free and alive.
No need for nods of approval,
no glances to gauge their thoughts,
for he has yet to discover,
the burden of self-aware sight.
The simple act of repeating,
brings comfort in its own way,
a pure and endless delight,
in the moment, come what may.
So he pushes the train around,
and watches the video play,
finding a world within each turn,
where joy is simple and pure.
He's not yet learned to look at,
the face that stares in mirrors,
and so he lives unburdened,
in the joy of simply being.
- Author: gray0328 ( Offline)
- Published: August 17th, 2024 17:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Mutley Ravishes
Comments2
A most interesting read bringing memories of playing with toy trains and riding on box cars playing in the train yard
Preach! Great write. I sometimes wonder if it’s all the responsibility of being an adult that contributes to losing the magic of childhood.
I recall a young lady saying that magic upped and left her when she went through puberty. I had the same experience.
And then there are the egos of identification. Of beliefs.
Oh well, I guess it’s up to us to rediscover it. Lot’s of work to do.
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