I was nothing, until you.

Where do children grow?

Do they sprout from within the heart,

Or perhaps show once the rains start?

Is there existence only that of physical,

Or have they lived all along,

In the pulses of blood that flow within?

Do they start as mystical,

Revealed only in faith?

Have they been hidden from view, until at last revealed unto you?

We are children, still, are we not?

I have grown from love,

I have laughed in the rain,

And rejoiced in the physical.

I know nothing of before,

But I can have faith in after.

And I know for certain of a single factor.

I may have not been hidden,

But unaware was I still

Until at last revealed unto you.