And how is it we lost our curiosity,
Our childish wonder and love of life.
For the birds who fly high in flight,
To the animals who range near ‘n out of site.
For the sun’s warm rays of life and light,
Given to the stars that speckle our night.
For the ant with all his strength and might,
To the lightening bug whose tail lights bright.
For the sand between our toes pushed tight,
As we ambled the beach in weather’s delight.
For those silly poems we loved to recite,
To the earthlings, their care we knew was right.
And how is it we became this?
Our love remiss.
With hearts cured hard as stone,
By sympathies we’ve outgrown,
For the suffering of countless unknown.
And how is it we remain as such?
With a list of priorities jumbled.
Our concerns silenced, scarcely mumbled,
In rich society tho’ poorly humbled.
We bask, bounded by the spell of blinding bliss,
Condemned to the depths of a selfish abyss.
And how is it, this wrong—done so long—now seems right?
Our lost childish curiosity and wonder,
Now this mature hard-hearted blunder.