What could I remember?
Nothing is what we'd all say.
Innocent, Fragile, Pure,
is what we all call it
we were born into this world,
Not by choice but by grace.
Some will call it a gift,
Other's will call it a burden.
We were given a gift without a choice
At birth, If we all knew what was ahead maybe I'd run back to where I came from.
Looking back at photographs of my miniature self,
I wondered what would have been going through the mind of that frail head
Work, Money, Love or Power?
I'd bet a million stars I was definitely wrong.
All I could possibly crave for was the hunger satisfyingly taste of breast milk, and the reassuring warmth of my mother's arms.
I'm sure I could have looked at my mother and my eyes would ask the question, what am I doing here?
Sometimes I wish I could remember everything,
who knows maybe God told me an important secret I needed before sending me here.