Sitting, contemplating on differences of people and
their attitudes.
Wondering how they developed and came about, how they
had interpreted things in their lives.
Seeing some people trying to teach with their own ideas
on how to do things, yet, they don't quite fit in with
the way a child's brain actually works.
Then others completely in their own little worlds, not
doing a thing to help children do anything.
Choosing to be independent and wholly unto themselves,
never really finding their purposes in this world.
Just finding a space to be themselves in spite of others,
this is where creative people fit in I believe, letting
nothing interfere with their innate talents and aptitudes.
All their lives only fitting in their own little spheres
of reality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem