the capacity to care

idealism floods the mind of
youth---
mixed with the naïve passions
of a life just beginning to
experience,
great actions can be spun out of
honesty put into
motion---
hearts soar in the bliss of youth,
often unappreciated,
often burnt away so quick,
but there is a point that
Mr. McCartney dabbled upon in
“Live and Let Die,”
when a life turns like spoiled milk,
when somewhere along the way
the issues of the world,
the world itself outside the small
bubble,
it no longer matters as it did once
before.

just when does the capacity to care
begin to wither?
is it the onslaught of pressures that come on
increasingly quick?
the job, the house, the significant others
coming & going,
the kids that come, the kids that go…
are these the things that make one
stop thinking about the world outside
their little bubble?
is this the world that makes one stop
caring?

are there any real reasons that make sense
when the capacity to care dies?
does the stress of one’s individual life
somehow make it alright
to be blind in the forest,
to see a blended, fading cloud of color
where there had once been
trees?