So you were born protesting,
Into a world that knew naught of you,
Nor cared,
And your childhood was a blur of colour and laughter and scraped knees and fathers rough cheek and insecurity and self love,
This world was yours and everyone lived for you.

You ran in your circle of sunshine,
And loved the crinkling leaves of Autumn,
And the withered old men in the park on a Saturday who faded into the brown of the bench.
And your mother told you it wasn't natural to love the dying things of this world,
That you belonged to the living.

As you grew you were betrayed and scorned and mocked and spat upon,
But you were loved too.
And you gathered this love around you like a fortress And managed to survive.

At the dawn of your womanhood your pride was devoured and you sobbed in your mothers lap,
And she sought to know the reason for your sorrow,
And your feeling was not made of words,
But you had reached that moment of enlightenment when you know that a time is over,
You had come to the crest of your childhood, now crumbling
And you could already only vaguely remember that special feeling of children,
And could only rock on the bed wish the ache inside And wonder why.

And how you loved the rainy, windblown nights
That snatched at your hair and clung to your body the sad loneliness that they gave you,
And you carried it with you in your matter's spirit,
And faith was upon you and you bore it before you like a torch.

And now you had to give yourself to something-
Your life, for that is all you have to give-
For you were at the age of University calendars and career nights and "Oh you'd make a perfect....."

So there you were,
And you were trying to think the greatness, glory, contentment, personal satisfaction you are told you would find on Page thirty two of the,
Introductory Manual to a New life.

Instead you felt the pain, the ache, the uselessness, the sorrow, And the cold,
And couldn't find the soothing hand, the gift of life and the love,
So you took it where it was offered.

You were so young and alive and eager to conform,
To don the cheering hand and soothing hand,
To conquer the world and it's ravages,
And yourself as well,
To learn, to give, to love.

Then you began what you now so hate,
The indifference, the lethargy, the dulling mind,
The hardening cement of the spirit,
Your torch had long been dropped,
And your hand was empty.

You were hurt for so long,
So then you lived lightly and were careful not to care,
So the world couldn't touch you,
You lived lightly and with care.

Ah you were betrayed again my friend,
It was not for that that you gave your laughter Or your tears,
No, it was not for this you had given your soul You heard the world laughing.

So you grew and gained tolerance and understanding and a measure of maturity,
And you never let the child within you die,
For it is only the child who is never really afraid to care.

Life goes on,
But the past belongs to itself,
And you have made a new beginning,
and for this I weep.