the capacity to care

idealism floods the mind of

youth---

mixed with the naïve passions

of a life just beginning to

experience,

great actions can be spun out of

honesty put into

motion---

hearts soar in the bliss of youth,

often unappreciated,

often burnt away so quick,

but there is a point that

Mr. McCartney dabbled upon in

“Live and Let Die,”

when a life turns like spoiled milk,

when somewhere along the way

the issues of the world,

the world itself outside the small

bubble,

it no longer matters as it did once

before.

 

just when does the capacity to care

begin to wither?

is it the onslaught of pressures that come on

increasingly quick?

the job, the house, the significant others

coming & going,

the kids that come,  the kids that go…

are these the things that make one

stop thinking about the world outside

their little bubble?

is this the world that makes one stop

caring?

 

are there any real reasons that make sense

when the capacity to care dies?

does the stress of one’s individual life

somehow make it alright

to be blind in the forest,

to see a blended, fading cloud of color

where there had once been

trees?