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We - A Narrative Of Living.....
Author: Shiloh

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We're all part of someone's Great American Dream;
A Family, a Home, whether it be an Apartment,
a Trailer, or a House in the Suburbs, complete with
a Small, White Picket Fence and a Garden along the side-
We are the Children part of that Dream.
Born in Innocence, not Aware of the World, we would
Burble and Coo and make typical Baby Noises, as we
Smiled up at the Faces that looked down upon us,
as we laid in our Blankets, our Cribs, our Playpens,
our Strollers,
We had it made, but were not aware of that, either.
We were, for the most part, loved and cared for,
given Nourishment or a Breast when Hungry, and
were Evidence of the Love of two People, two
Parents, who would show us off with some Pride.

We would Grow Up, become Young Adults, and we
would suffer the Hurts of Childhood, then of our
Teenage Years, then we would Go Out Into The World,
where we would stand at Intersections, Confused,
Bewildered, Emotionally Stranded, having absolutely
No Idea what our Next Step should be, but we knew,
We Knew, that we had to Do Something. It Was
Expected Of Us. And we really wanted to - we
Wanted To Amount To Something. We just didn't
know What that was, or would be.

And so we set out upon our Journey. Blind,
Trusting, Innocent, Naive, Foolish,
Fleeting promises, half-filled with good intentions,
Promising nothing for us, but Harkening, Beckoning,
Entreating, Calling to us to go to them, to try for
the Brass ring, to Outlast the Bell.
Stolen Moments that we neither Understood, or
truly Appreciated, but we would Grasp at, in Animal Fury,
trying to make Something that was Simply Necessary
into something Poetic and Pretty and Dream-like.

We would go through all the Motions of Life,
trying to Remember how we saw it done before it was
our turn, hoping we were doing it right;
ever Unsure of ourselves, we continued to continue.
What else was there for us to do?
One day it would be Our Turn, to pick up the Trail
where our Elders had stopped, Our Turn to make the
Dream of the Home, the Picket Fence, the Roses by the porch,
...and the Children.

That's The Whole Idea, isn't it?

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