"Herr Capellmeister, I should like to compose something; how shall I begin?" asked a youth of twelve who played with great skill on the piano. "Pooh, Pooh," replied Mozart, "you must wait."
"But you began when you were younger than I am," said the boy.
"Yes, so I did," said the great composer, "but I never asked anything about it. When one has the spirit of a composer, he writes because he can't help it."
-Pushing to the Front" by Orison S. Marden Published in 1911

Wow this short story struck a deep spiritual nerve in me.
Below is the poem that erupted out of the puncture of that nerve.

You are Wonder!
Oh God, I marvel at what you plant within the forming soul.
Every womb is a new genesis, an eden of wonder!
Mysteries hidden like dreams in the fabric of your creation.

You are Wonder!
Like a prophet gardener you sow seeds of destiny in the heart.
Then at the appointed hour of fading dark, you awaken the dawn!
You speak and out from the dirt of our passions emerging as tender seedlings...the fruit of the future.

You are Wonder!
You're answers lay in the countless fields of desire.
Secret pearls...awaiting desperate and searching hands.

You are Wonder!