A Work In Progress

In her infancy she is small,
and very much at the mercy of the world.
Her eyes are wide with wonder
at all she sees,
things yet untainted by the wants and desires
of millions of well-wishing fools. .
Her mother is her Goddess
who was the gate through which
she passed into this world.
Her father, a sweet stranger
bearing gifts of warmth and security,
he is the tender of the fire.
Both of them are her infallible teachers.
As a child she grows in heart and mind,
not nearly as fast as the world around her.
Eyes, mouth, nose and hands
guide her on her search for understanding.
This world will cut, and burn,
and scar a child, but she is resilient.
She is not a child for long, however,
and painfully gives in to the whims
of emotion, and biology. 
Where once there lived only girls and boys,
men and women surround her,
sometimes overwhelming her
as she tries to find her place among them.
She lives, and dies with her heart,
which is a fragile creature
prone to fainting spells, and fits of fury.
When at last it seems her body, her heart,
and her mind have grown to the appropriate size,
and she is a woman by law, and nature,
she pauses in astonishment as she realizes that
despite trial, and error, nature, and nurture,
she still knows nothing.