take the kids to the jungle,
let them go.
unclip the leash,
forget the measured grow.
their map is drawn in
laughter,
not in ink,
their only law is what they feel and think.

let them cross the river in a bundle,
a team,
let them swim
and
bubble in the reckless stream.
let them throw wild rocks to hear the splash,
and
dance on mud without the fear of rash.
let them watch a waterfall,
the best teacher of all,
whose roaring voice teaches them to stand proud and tall.

let them be lost in a forest,
unafraid,
the forest is a school as well as the mountain's shade.
let them claim tall trees as their own fort,
let them hide in bushes,
to whisper and snort.
let them skydive in dreams,
scuba dive in the grass,
where every moment is a world that will pass.

for there is no bar in the jungle's warm heart,
only the swing, the fruit, the glorious art
of being truly,
freely,
what you are,
and
anyone they played with is a synapse,
a connection,
a living, breathing, neural reflection.
that's what does it mean being born to be free.