From innocence, the mind’s furnished halls
Swell up with inflating thought,
Which beats for those it surrounds,
In step by step grace whose name it sounds,
Of their deep, wondrous, explored;
And their tastes, lonely, implored.
Such impelling feats, many can relate
To how expansive the world then seems
To quells of fate tending the running heels,
Of sweetness narrowed, kept to itself;
Despite efforts in heating their hearts,
And know of freedom, the ways it departs.
Far this innocence travels through,
Reverberates, swells and hopes for nought;
That to let it remain unto itself
Would grant our endings no letting go,
Or bother their need for resolve;
As no produce made themselves be known.
Quiet it would rest, securely in a home,
Where, if a future would come storming by,
To send a torpid, pathless fright—
This innocence, a sweet wisdom held,
Would gather its dust and set aside,
That it had won, beauty as it's right.
Forget the image its perfume makes,
In the entirety of its lifted front.
Such loving echoes fearlessly played,
Have in sacrifice, lived and caved,
Upon; that along this there are routes out,
Of being just a voice to peer.
For however long these shallows control
Swift innocence gazing through;
Their thoughts of hope and briskly lands
Will eventually fall to plans of time,
Reverenced through a pointed claw,
And kept in secret for the sneering type.
Now far away, from the crowd it was,
And turned outward in a keeper’s pod;
Stretching unkindly, possessiveness harmed,
With arrogant regard for gaining yard;
Which would leave awe’s inquiry,
And doubt it's hold on life’s river.
A beginning thawed to its hallowed bone,
Quickly turned to what it tamed;
When it knew how, hardness sunk,
And spoke to all forever unchanged.
The moon is out, innocence encaged,
And the life of dreams, lost and remade.