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rough wooden coffins. "You have to be prepared to make sacrifices," they said. "If some innocent
bystanders get hurt, isn't that just the price one must pay for peace?" The head said yes, but the
Heart said no.
The years rolled by and they got old. Sitting in their comfortable houses, they took stock. "We've
had a good life," they said, "and we did the right thing." Their children looked down and asked
why poverty, pollution, and war were still unsolved. "You'll find out soon enough," they replied.
"Human beings are weak and selfish. Despite our best efforts, these problems will never really
end."
The head said yes, but the children looked into their hearts and whispered, "No!"
A Child is a Song
When children listen to music, they don't just listen. They melt into the melody and flow with the
Rhythm. Something inside starts to unfold its wings - soon the child and the music are one. I feel
That way, too, in the presence of music, and my best moments of creativity have often been spent
With children. When I am around them, music comes to me as easily as breathing.
Each song is a child I nourish and give my love to. But even if you have never written a song, your
life is a song. How can it not be? In wave after wave, Nature caresses you - the rhythm of each
Dawn and each sunset is part of you, the falling rain touches your soul, and you see yourself in the
Clouds that are playing tag with the sun. To live is to be musical, starting with the blood dancing
In your veins. Everything living has a rhythm. To feel each one, softly and attentively, brings out its music.
Do you feel your music?
Children do, but once we grow up, life becomes a burden and a chore, and the music grows
Fainter. Sometimes the heart is so heavy that we turn away from it and forget that its throbbing is
the wisest message of life, a wordless message that says, "Live, be, move, rejoice -- you are alive!"
Without the heart's wise rhythm, we could not exist.
When I begin to feel a little tired or burdened, children revive me. I turn to them for new life, for
new music. Two brown eyes look at me so deeply, so innocently, and inside I murmur, "This child
is a song." It is so true and direct an experience that instantly I realize again, "I am a song also." I
Am back to myself once more.
Child of Innocence
Child of innocence, I miss your sunny days
We joyously frolicked in extended plays
Ever since you've left the scene
The streets are lonely, dark, and mean
Child of innocence, return to me now
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