Listening to the world unfold,
Not to understand at all.
A certain talent that’s foretold,
A life that’s yet to call.
Tiny features that start to form,
A mind in infant sorts.
A heart that beats a rhythmic tone,
And yet to know what for.
Till the time of birth does come,
His life is lent to fate.
When his heart is developed full,
He will become Innate.