baby - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Baby comes not as clay, yet as flower with beauty to unfold in sunny days, in the kind weather of the growing seasons. So stay your kiln, unstoke your fires, and come as humble gardener to creation's song.
My baby is my heart song, for to see into his eyes rekindles my best self, my child self.
The baby was enjoying an idea that amused her, for it was told in her smiling eyes and dimpled cheeks.
The baby was dreaming new ideas with emotions and pictures, for these are the first languages of us all.
The baby is born to seek love, to be in that beautiful protective web of emotions that give, nurture and guard one another. They invite us to be the best versions of ourselves, to rewind, to cast away the cynicism that poisons and instead make the loving web their intuition searches for. I see their hearts as a compass, the needle spinning until it finds real love, their true north and ours.
In the eyes of the baby is all of me, the person I was born as before culture had its say. There is a purity to the gaze, love, given and received... and I know in that moment without a word said inwardly or from my lips, that I love this baby and every other... it's natural, right? And if a person came to harm them I would defend with my life in need be. And that's my truth, right there, in those baby eyes and every other.
In the candle lit room stood family and friends, each one ready to make a pledge to how they would help this baby girl their lifetimes. She was a precious gift of the Creator's light, a pure soul. When she cried they shed tears too, her cries were to be expected. This child was freshly arrived from heaven; being further away from the Creator wasn't easy and it was their job to fill her with so much love that she could be happy on Earth - safe and content in the knowledge that not only her parents, but her entire extended family loved her and watched over her. The baby was passed from person to person, each holding her, cuddling her, before carefully placing her into the arms of a trusted other. The ceremony was beautiful beyond measure, not in expensive flowers or fancy food, but in the sharing of genuine heartfelt emotion.
There was no bonnier baby so long as he was being held, he would smile, eat well, snuggle and be the perfect "bundle of joy." But he was not a baby to be put down, not even for a minute, not even if he was fast asleep. Once that skin to skin warmth and the subtle movement was gone he'd be screaming so loud the neighbours would come running - surely something terrible had occurred! And so his mother grew strong arms to carry him as he grew and nights found him right next to his parents, always cuddled right up to one or the other.
In a sane world, a baby is a sacred and precious gift, one the community receives as such and is under the protection of all adults.