my child

sometimes
I’m gobstruck by infinity
radiating from this moment
threads and arcs of possibilities
sneaking up on it we might observe
as a child down darkened hall, peeking from a bedroom door
the selections made for us constantly
by our relentless thoughts
and judgments and feelings
with our adulting minds
…yet a few children stand in the midst of this bazaar
absorbed with arrays and paths of their own elective
in a smorgasbord of choice
one of the few might be you,
sometimes

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