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.

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