Imagine telling a baby the best moments of his life

could be sitting in a room by himself all alone typing,
staring out the window into space, making up stories
& people & stringing words, cajoling order from tangled
childhood & modern chaos & the future charging like a
locomotive down the track of the imagination.

Imagine telling a baby that.

Imagine telling a baby the moments when she would use
to the utmost excellence everything she had been given
& found may be tapping a vision into lines of coded symbols
that would if she were lucky set off the deepest longings
of real people whose shadows crossed that window, & even
people not born yet, if she were luckier.

Imagine telling a baby that.

The baby would say, "What's a chaos? What's a word?
What's a longing? What's a future? What's a locomotive?
What's a moment? What's a shadow? What's a imagination?"