Little Creators

You are free to 
recognize 
the beauty in 
your brokenness, to caress
clarity in 
your chest rising above panicked 
seas 
each 
breath forces to shore. 

You’re amazing, 
cornucopia I adore, 
seashells washed up on 
naked feet, 
full of
sounds in store for us. 

At the edge of young forests,  a chorus where horizons of blue 

placed down dry land for you, 
porous 
as white sands. 

I saw the puzzle in your hands and tried to complete it, but it only shapeshifted to my dance. 

Terraforming like water, our movements seemed planned but were spontaneous, seeds sprouting by pure chance until blossom was the dominant gene. 

You are allowed to 
fall and learn, little 
creator. 

The pebbles that bruise your arms are mountains to lesser mortals, but no one asked for gods, however remorseful we are for the loss. 

You’ve all the magic to master the science of my awe, in lock and step with elements, in
sunshine

stormclouds 
or early morning fog.

I sought to inspire but you captivated my wanderlust with a gust of laughter and fields of lavender beyond

the treeline 
of endless
oceanfront.

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2 thoughts on “Little Creators

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