Maturing With IT

As Infant…

IT was simple.

Touch.

Smell.

Taste.

See and hear.

Soft was soft.

Smiles were smiles.

Kisses were kisses.

As Child…

IT was...differen.t

Am I cared for?

Am I really liked?

Am I loved...really?

As Adolescent…

IT was...Hell.

If I do this well, will I be--?

Why did they invent mirrors, anyway?

Why didn’t he even love himself?

Would he ever find IT?

As adult…

IT was a disaster.

He thought he knew what IT was.

Why didn't they?

He knew what IT needed.

Why couldn't he find more?

He learned IT was all misread.

As a mature Being…

He’s listening to petals open.

He’s seeing noise made quiet.

He’s smelling transcendent breezes.

He’s tasting fragrances awakened.

He’s touching the infant within and…

What if IT just is,

Sans definition,

For its own sake?