Soon the child's dear eyes
become clouded by ideas and opinions, preconceptions and abstractions;
simple free being becomes encrusted by a
burdensome armor of the ego.
Not until years later does
an instinct come that a
vital sense of mystery has been withdrawn.
The sun glints through the pines,
and the heart is pierced in a moment of beauty and strange pain,
like a distant memory of paradise.
After that day,
we become seekers.
Peter Matthiesson
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