The rustling room came to rest, dark curtains covering afternoon sunlight and hiding the morning's toys and distractions. I laid at the edge of a small mattress, little fingers running across mine, soft eyes looking at me as they contemplated life and the arrival of the Sandman. He wouldn't let me move even an inch from his side, and we lay there quietly, together. Soon, the whole room slept (and no place is as calm as a room full of sleeping children), and there was not a thought left in my head.
Because oh, how the essence of children erase the demons from my side. How their bright eyes and eager curiosity break my egocentric circles and discard my self-conscious chill. We ran through the park laughing, exhausting our every limb and still asking for more, always asking the world for more, our desire for it insatiable.
Sometimes I don't understand this battle I wage. This incessant need to ruin everything that is beautiful and simple about life and make it difficult.
But if you take my war away, as well
I fear there'd be nothing left
of me
at all.
So I fight.
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