Babies bounce
Their laughter is lighter than air
Their dreams as high as the sky
And so they fly
Just as surely as they cry
With worry-free wings
And lives unencumbered
Growing up
Is learning the law of staying down
Giving up on the lullabies of skies
And believing the lies
That the spirit can’t rise
On imaginary smoke
And dreams unrequited
Getting wise
Is learning the art of not knowing
Giving up on the clutter of stuff
And saying enough
Of the bluster and bluff
That anchors you down
With things unimportant
Elders float
Their knowing is buoyant as balsa
Their memories like corks on the seas
And so with all ease
They free-ride the breeze
With discarded ballast
And flight rediscovered
— Wayne Visser