As children,
We only knew love.
Our love was given,
It was celebrated,
The moment we were born.
We were the masterpiece of life.
We could feel the aliveness pulsing through our veins and the dance of our cells within our bodies.
We were carried,
Cared for,
And pure,
And full of love.
And yet,
Slowly,
Our beautiful existence turned into a battle of pain.
Pain of not getting our needs met,
Or simply pain of being misunderstood.
At times by being too much,
And at times by not being enough.
And within that paradox of human existence,
And sudden movement through extremes,
We get to realize that not everyone remembers what love actually is.
Life allows us to observe the touch from others,
Everything from the softness of a warm hand,
To coldness,
From different walls to open spaces.
We get to feel the winds of change and heaviness of the tired arms.
We get to learn that every rock pays a road,
We all get to walk.
Yet our wonder and curiosity towards the world's smallest of miracles gets stepped on and somehow continuously ignored by those who forgot the support and care they once got from that road.
And somehow the road loses its importance and we learn to look at the mountain.
And that is how we learn to celebrate change,
Everything in constant motion.
And because of that,
We want it to live fully.
The change would greet us with faces,
Weather,
Feelings,
Stories and seasons,
Nature all around.
We didn't understand the rush,
Because we knew that the cloud shaped like a bird wouldn't be the same next time we look up.
We knew that everything beautiful would also disappear.
And there is no love in rushing towards disappearance.
There is no better quality of time than the one we can live fully.
We can all share a slice of our beautiful existence,
Just like a raindrop of yesterday's puddle can turn into a rainfall.
We know the difference between words that celebrate kindness and words that are seeking to be loved.
That is why every child brings their joy everywhere.
Even the muddy puddle reflect the sun.
Words were never meant to destroy,
Same way as no bird sings to harm others.
In that sense,
Many are still lost in translation,
Simply because the language that once carried them sank like a rock to the deep sea of responsibility,
Storms and denial of the truth.
And that is why even as adults we find comfort in people who can reflect back our pain,
Because deep within that pain lies also the connection back to something we once lost.
And yet it was never lost.
You had it all this time.
