Calico splinters of light cascade down the edge of reason.
I look plainly at your face, expecting some kind of answer, some clue to the emotions preserved there.
What of a spellbound child enduring mediocrity - with a true heart crying out to be heard over the pontification of others?
Must it be this way? Must they be so blind?
So obvious in their "I'm not ready to be awakened" attitude?
We must smile and remember back to when we once held that perspective as well, with the surity of heart that one day they will be ready.
Whether or not it is by their choice is an entirely different matter.
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