Sometimes I wonder, I wonder where they Sprouted from. I wonder Whether they were moulded or Fabricated to add up to the Created. I mean no mischief here. But I need answers to my dilemma. In marvel I marry their complex Being with their careful but senseless actions. Sometimes I wonder If their actions stem from Immaturity or something unnamed. They appear to be babies With grown teeth Demanding pampering and Worship. Anything short of These is a mark of insensitivity. Their nature exemplifies thorns and roses delicately intertwined. Whoever created them, You did well. Just a manual would Have placated our endless predicaments. You left a puzzle to push us To our wits’ end, blanks to Fill in the gaps. But you see, I still hear your gentle breath whispering, ‘In wisdom, abide with them.’ And for this I’m grateful.