Poem or song, © by Michaël Lessard, around 1996 *

After a moody introspection during my studies in Counseling.

This child

I'm paralyzed by something I cannot see,

buried and dying inside of me.

Lost inside my sanctuary,

faraway and secured,

in my own warm darkness.

I stretch out my hand, but I cannot feel you.

And my soul falls again to my safe little space.

I'm afraid you'll touch this bleeding child.

Yes! this child is small,

not something you'll admire !

So dark and muddy in this little hole.

Center of the universe, this child is real.

You will not ignore the exploding black hole.

Your indifference will not stand when the child flies high.

Your denial will fall when the child screams inside.

This child is great !

Raging to live !

A soaring angel,

the sky will explode.

This child is beautiful.

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* Copyright - The text above cannot be used in whole or in part without the consent of Michaël Lessard responding to miclesgeo[at]yahoo.com or 1-418-254-6448 (no.225). If both the e-mail and phone number fail, this means I have died and you must ask the living person in charge of my belongings (refer to the Quebec-Canada government).

Hint : I would like some of my texts to be used by actual bands.