Children's Day

I remember what it was like being a kid.
In someways I still am
I remember being happy then.
In someways I still am.

For me back then an ant hill was an architectural wonder
In some ways it still is
I used to think  of my dad as a superhero
In someways he still is
My mother would always make everything better
In someways she still does

My wants were small, but ruthless
Somehow they still are

My idea of the world was magical
In someways the idea stayed

I believed in happy endings
Sometimes I still do

The playground was always exciting
This I guess will always remain

Being a kid , I felt everything would always turn out right
In some ways it did.

I sought friends I would keep for life
In some of them, I found friends for life

My toys were my companions
On some lonely days they still are.

Cartoons made my day
Some of them still do

Back then it wasn't about the iPhone, it was about the ice-cream.
Even now sometimes its about the ice-cream

Back then I believed in the goodness of people
Sometimes I still do

Not a lot has changed I guess
But somehow it has....

For the children in all of us. I'm glad they are in there...to sometimes still show us the way.

Psst....

Words are often suppressed by everyone. Especially by those who think with their head.
They may have a good heart, but perhaps a smarter mind. Their minds are editors and edit out words that seem unnecessary. A screening process if you will.

Then there are those who speak from their hearts. Without thinking and perhaps less careful. They mean well, Intentions are swell and yet more often than not they are banished to holy hell.

Speaking comes with many prior clauses and conditions. It isn't easy to say what you feel always. Perhaps most relationships would go kaput if you will. One has to choose his or her words wisely. Its the fine balance of your tippy toes that stand at the edge of a creaky wooden plank overlooking a sea of sharks waiting to devour you. We are editors of our potentially shocking conversations and we are liars and we cherish understating and use white lies to maintain our peace. We the speakers of our varied undertones.

We the mute. We the silent
We bravely think, we rarely speak.
We mouth rehearsed lines from a screened pre-approved script
Are we cowards?
Or are we smart?

In my silence I will hold my courage
And upon your silence, I will count on

And in our silences I will assume that life is a cloud bubble
with careful font.

And as we continue to live the way we are expected to, it must be disappointing for our unspoken words
Words that would perhaps change the world. May be not for the better. But different

As i mull over these 'pointless' thoughts
I invite you to mull over yours

One thing's for sure. Ours is a noisy silent world.