The Boy and the Mountain
(A stream of consciousness kid's book)

When Tristan turned six
He left his home and moved to the mountain.
There he made friends with
The plants and beasts.
Even the insects, he made them feel welcome.

There in nature
He grew day by day.
Books would drop from the sky
And gently plop on the welcome mat
At his door (made of morning dew).

Then by reading he began learning
About all that was.
Within four months
He, with an apple or an orange
In his hand, could discern
The truth from fallacy,
The fact from surmises,
The germ from the kernel.

His piercing gray eyes could see farther
Than the eagle (or the hawk)
And past its wing to the sky beyond.
He could see stars as if up close
And the rigmarole that surrounded them.
Yet he was not one contented.

"I will build spaceships out of clouds
And fly ever further...
I will take power from empty space
To achieve my intentions."

Further, faster, and then when it,
Mercury, went retrograde;
He, retreated into the world of the smallest.

Turning himself into smoke and photons
To investigate the one cells, and viruses,
The atoms, and nucleuses,
The vastness of the nothingness
Spaced between all of the something.

"Oh what a traveler am I
From the farthest away to the nearest inside.

I walk stepping stones, gateways to the out there,
On Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday;
And quantum jump from shell to shell
On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

And the day left, sans any luggage,
I write in my journal my various exploits,
My adventures, my encounters,
With strange beasts, wily plants,
And teasing women knocking ...

Then with moments left
When sleep is no more needed
I'll redecorate my home
In the classic Universe Style
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Is persistent:

More left to do ...