I love to bask in my childlike wonder
I love to feel like a child
I love to frolic in a field of flowers
Run through nature, wild

There, the child I find
That child is on my mind

Beautiful little creature
How I love to remember
Prancing through the wood
And under stars, I stood

In awe and wonder
A graceful stupor

Patient
Waiting
Always
Listening

My friends, every tree
Every rock, bird, and snake
My family, the bees
Bushes, leaves, and lake

Until her home had torn apart
Itself and all the trees
She, suffering a broken heart
Wept amongst their leaves

As the land was cleared, her spirit with it
Or so it may have seemed
She didn’t know it could not be lifted
But, went on and on pretending

“Turn away!” she cried
“Save your heart before it dies!”
Whatever it took, whatever lies
“Save your heart before it dies!”

And so she roamed
To escape her home
At first, hopeless and alone

But, the stars cried out
And a chorus of trees
She had tuned them out
But, they kept calling

Unbeknownst to her
She’d drawn closer
Eyes wider
Heart larger

“My heart can’t die unless I go with it,”
She began to muse
“Sure, it can break into a thousand pieces,”
By now, she surely knew

“But what of the enormous heights?
The bliss of glorious days and nights?
That I could not have possibly known
Without that ever lonely low…”

“I’ll take it, life.
All the love and all the strife
Every drop of experience
Every morsel of existence
Whatever you wish to give me,
I accept and do so fully.

And whatever you wish to take away,
I won’t take for granted until that day.”
Like the leaves of the old Oak tree
Or shed skin of a snake
She let go of everything
She didn’t longer need

Good morning, child
Your day of birth
Thirty-Six now
And younger than you were
Three decades spent
Peeling away
Layers of muck
And rust from clay

Having lived one hundred thousand years
And one thousand lives
Through all the triumphs, fails and tears
Worth every penny, every dime

Progressing
Not regressing
Back
To your essence
Gratefully
Not regretfully
Essence
In the presence

That child is on my mind.

Poetry

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