The Death of Wonder

 

I've lost the eyes that made me a child, 
Through which the ordinary once ran wild. 
The world grows old beneath my view; 
Even the miraculous feels déjà-vu.

Sadness clouds my weather-beaten mind, 
And locks me in a cage of yesterday; 
Each new dawn leaves nothing new to find, 
Each open door leads down a well-worn way.

How can I call myself a child of Nature, 
When she rebirths herself every spring, 
While I grow dull with age, a pale caricature, 
Too old to marvel, too tired to sing?

I want everything in order,
Want everything to make sense,
Even if I must pay the price
Of losing innocence.

The trees still tremble at the touch of rain, 
The stars still set the midnight skies alight; 
Yet all their magic falls on me in vain— 
My eyes can see, but wonder has taken flight.

Tomorrow, the Sun will rise again,
The world will turn as it always has;
But will wonder awaken in me,
Or will I watch another surprise pass?