Everything matches...
Trusting his gut...
His intuition is the prism and the light...
A color scheme created by his hands...
He assigns a color even to the insects...
To the Queens of Ants and Bees...
A projector for the screen...
He eternally dreams...
Yet never leaving his seat...
Listening to the parents...
He continues his play even while sitting...
White socks...
Brown shoes..
He walks boldly through the fabric of the seamstress...
Sown perfectly for him...
He trusts every step...
As his attire carries his look gracefully...
He plays in the playground...
Tis a place where the dirt may give medicine...
To the sick...
To the blind...
To the confident...
To the ones that know something...
An ignorant child that knows nothing...
A manifestation of semen and zygote...
He offers chocolate
He lights candles...
He protects his innocence while giving it away...
And after the dog releases his feces...
Creating the brown shoe...
Seeing only himself...
He gives his socks, to his mother: to wash them...
doM
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