I have thought myself sometimes wise, that I understand something of the world around me. I, who sometimes seeks cosmic guidance from the next song lyrics that comes on the radio. God made the world so that it would confound those the deepest in thought, and make it plain to children. And I find I am a child no more, and cannot recall how it was that I thought when I was innocent. How much more the fool am I, who has been outside the machine for so long? Or is this the only claim I have to true understanding? I seek a narrow way, in heart and in mind, of soul and of substance: perhaps not all is lost on me. Mayhap there is a child in me, somewhere, who can see still the wonder of it all. Is this not the meaning of what it is to be born again?
