A boy and his stick

Boys play with sticks, running about in the yard with a fine twig in hand. Casting it to the sky, swinging it at the foes unseen. With bark and wood in hand they weave a tale that no one will ever know. In a childs mind kingdoms come to be and are swept away with grand power, heros live and die to rise again. No one has to teach the way of the stick, its inside all of us when we are born. Inside that beautiful mind that is created through an act of ultimate love. The imagination is already there, fueled with a world of endless beauty and mystery. On the outside, to those who have forgotten about this world see the children at play. So innocent, and without experience. Their silly actions without reason, their carelessness and rash nature. There is so much more than what they see because inside the child's mind is everything. All the things that exist today were once in the mind of that child. That young imagination is more capable of creation than any god. For a child, a stick is the most powerful tool. Children, never stop playing with sticks. Take it from an adult, who still does.