I have listened to this masterpiece of Christmas Music. It evokes to childhood when I didn’t need to worry about much. I would go and venture forth with arbitrary conquests and mostly enjoy myself.
Those days are dead. I’ve been mourning them for a few months. I found comments of those who have been mourning for decades.
I wrote a comment, and it goes like this:
As children, we were happy because we had nothing else to lose.
It is to our horror when we learn why all those adults were so sad.
And it is to our horror when it is longer “we” but “they”.
The days crept away. We were slowly stripped of who we were.
We are frogs boiled-cooked, sad, and dead.
Maybe that’s why some of the adults hate children:
They didn’t hate us back then, they envied us.
Why is such a small portion of life more significant than the rest?
Are the later days meant for us to wallow in the past?
Maybe it’s because we can’t let go. Those memories.
And so as we forget to let go we lose what children have.