They don't get it.
They are far too young.
They need age and experience
Behind them
To understand.
Unfortunately
They must get burned,
Cry a thousand tears,
Wallow in a dark cave of utter despair,
And pull themselves together
Piece by piece,
Never suspecting
The end product
Would be a stranger.
The final goal
To find themselves,
Looking for lost youth
In between motherhood
And old age.
And if the universe smiles,
They might find more
In the spaces and stillness,
In the pause from adventure
When they take the time
To just breath.
-K
