Victorious

Desperate to walk. The frustration of his own lack of mobility shouts from his very being.

He wants to move, to see, to experience, to be stimulated, absorbed, and distracted.

He runs through life, breathing it in. Great gulps until the air burns at his throat, his heart fit to burst.

He never stops, there is too much too be explored. Life’s a riot of colours, of sounds, of lights.

He welcomes the assault on his senses as one would welcome a balm. A welcome salve of cool in the oppressive heat of boredom.

He wants haste, he wants noise. Life is to be experienced in a haze of wonder.

And then, at night, I watch as he sleeps.

Energy spent, tiny body loose, a doll dropped on the bed.

Does he relive today or does he dream of tomorrow?

He awakens, restored. He roars at the world, ready to explore and to conquer. 

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