in the heart of my baby's very own world.
I know it has stars that talk to him,
and a sky that stoops down to his face
to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows.
Those who make believe to be dumb,
and look as if they never could move,
come creeping to his window
with their stories and with trays
crowded with bright toys.
I wish I could travel by the road
that crosses baby's mind,
and out beyond all bounds;
Where messengers run errands for no cause
between the kingdoms of kings of no history;
Where Reason makes kites of her laws and flies them,
the Truth sets Fact free from its fetters.
Rabindranath Thakur
