May my Heart take solace in the seed of every child's own cosmos.
Every child hears the stars, and shrieks with joy at the rainbow,
That beams from heaven just to regale the babes of the world.
Those that play at wisdom sully the child's worlds with lies, because the truth doesn't sell, deceiving the soul and self of worth.
I wish I could traverse the valleys and fathom the stars that are the topography of child's cosmos, under that cosmic canopy, that mystical frontier;
Beyond which we can comprehend its truths so strange and queer,
Where Creation makes butterflies of her children and frees them, Love sets Hearts free from mind's mannacles,
Nay no child quarrels with the rainbow.