Twinkle are little stars
Diamonds inside little irises.
Only love, incalculable with no formula
Resting in one infinity sign
And a child’s face is the perfect moon
Enumerating innocence, smile it seems
Is paying it forward. A beacon with a beam.
Love is the only space craft
Needed to land on the moon turf. And love
Is the only condition – an offering of charity –
And through the universal scrolls of parenthood
Man makes child one like him
Maturation is when a diamond
Becomes a lump of graphite. And a pencil head scripts
A story of listless spells of cynicism
Broken only by childlike nostalgia
To be that child again, a caterpillar
On a mulberry leaf. Man is just a journeyman
Of a body decaying forward
And a heart caught in tidal currents
Of retrograde transport.
