Cries forlorn
Break dawn’s
Eclectic clarity
Of thought and sense;

Cries born
On baby’s breath;
Wailing of one
Little boy born
Into this world
Of darkness and death.

Such innocence
No man might declare –
For no innocence
Is there.
This body young,
(And Spirit old)
Not was or will be –
Spirit Is.

The Spirit that
Is this new body’s
Doer, is such
For in lives and
Time before,
The thoughts
Which were his
Actions – deeds –
Which caught him in
His worldly greed,
Remain unbalanced,
And stain the palace
Of his Being.

Would Kings cry
On their palatial
Destruction?
Would baby die
For the right
To salvation?
But baby cries
On Spirit’s
Emaciation,
That is this
Thing Birth.

Cast headlong
Into the world
All little unseen
Boys and girls,
Whom know not Spirit –
Know not Life –
Must live and breathe
And learn of Love,
For naught but
All awaits the
Ones for whom
One is All and
All is One.

And on life and
Right living done,
Such children
Are no longer;
For a child is of
The Earthbound plane:
Youth and age are
Inseparable from time.
Where no time is –
No boys, no girls;
No gender or age
Afflict the beings
Whose indiscriminate
Thought forms are
Balanced as One.