Awe and the wonder child

What is this wonder child?
She sits in bed, eyes dripping something, and it's not a salty tear.

Suppose she crawled in the jungle with the chickens,
weren't we all free not too long ago?

Turning and whirling in the waterfall drips, mossy remembrances, and something that looks gold, but is worth far more.

This is the re-centering.

With the gore comes the sheen, and the stitches are invisible, can you tell?
We cover our bare bodies with symbols and brands,
I wonder, am I good enough for this judgmental world?

No.

I am not even in this world.

I am the child within the rocks, the nectar of floral hymns and the hum of the bees.
This is where I reside, and it is full of AWE, wonder and magic.

Suppose she crawled in the jungle with the chickens,
we both got caught in the madness of running around in circles.

this rings brighter.

Avocado smoothly caressing the tongue, tinctures that break the bottle since they are so potent and something unnamable, this is the moment.

If fear is awe in disguise, and awe is fear than I live in a constant battle of mis-understandings.

Oh how Awesome is this place!

Full of something greater than the sand between my toes, but it feels soft and I don't clean it off.

This is the day that You have made, and I will be glad and rejoice it!

Suppose she crawled in the jungle with the chickens,
well she did.

She cawed, and clawed, bit and spat:
rummaging through this pile of unbranded clothing, and all I see is texture and torn fabric.

I want you to know me.

This child who runs in creeks, and swings off the trees,
she is still somewhere hidden in a constant game of hide and seek.

I am seeking,
I am re-awing,

finding the me within me,
the essence within the ego,

because jungle walks are nice and all, I prefer to leap!