This is the earliest of my poems I still have. I wrote it during elementary school.
At that time I was not aware of the words proactive and reactive. I was only starting to become aware of the great divide in habits and happiness between those who generate their life circumstances and those who merely endure circumstances generated by others.
The world is like a playground
In which someone's buried the toys.
We can only play with what we've found,
We're not happy girls and boys.
A red rubber ball's been dug up by hand;
It's the only game that now is played.
The digging has stopped, but in the sand
I spot the shine of a spade.
While they play ball I dig faster than by hand
To see what the sand does hide.
When the ball finally breaks and they look to the sand
Instead of labor, they see a slide.
No they are with me, but we're all alone.
No conversation is ever made.
But I do not mind, for they will grow bored
And I am the one with the spade.