And there are stories the human child should and shouldn’t know.
Grimm’s fairy tales come to mind.
Friday the 13th.
Days of infamy – you name it.

But eventually you could tell the child that the heart is massaged, excited then broken by only one.
The profound and the bothersome are all here by you.
Even the itch you pursue because of the mosquitos you allowed to feast on your ankles.
Ankles you told to dance in an ecstatic fervor decades ago.
A mind above ankles urging body abandonment.
Surrendering to lovely movements.

And if you are looking for evidence of purpose, you won’t find it.
Or you might find all of it at once – only to see it slip away like a specter.

But carving it out of relation and weather and circumstance?
A mockingbird wishes you luck.