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Sunday, August 30, 2009


Innocence Innocence is its own reward. Given at conception from the grace of the highest love, Fiercely protected from those who might spoil its virtues, And set free to explore a snug island of earthly delights. Pirates of purity raid the fragile sanctuary Attempting to distort every vestige of chaste life. And only the most stable fend off the evil marauders For long tomorrows of pristine perfection. Time eventually weakens even the most innocent As it sweeps away the clean remains of juvenile behaviors And carelessly tosses them away without ceremony Into boxes neatly stored in the closets of the adult mind. Longing and regret eventually occupy the seasoned stage To play their somber roles in tales of lost simplicity And stories of bygone, careless times: Simple, outdated vignettes soon shrouded by drawing curtains. Innocence is the unrealized reward given freely to all. Too quickly undervalued and tarnished By covetous hands of greedy, loveless animals Or by the innocent pawns moved by the rights of natural passage.
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