Wasn’t Life marvellous when you were little?
Couldn’t you swing for hours and tell the daisies
of faraway lands and fairies and brave knights.
And didn’t the wind sing the soundtrack.
Didn’t you gaze up into the universe of old trees
forgetting time and
humming quietly to the rhythm
of your heart.
Weren’t bugs endlessly fascinating
and wasn’t the smell of dust
melting in the summer rain
a reason to dance with your head in the clouds
and your heart
into a thousand tiny pieces of pure bliss.
Sometimes you were sad. Sometimes angry.
You became frustrated.
You tried again.
And you learned.
For if you were lucky
no one had told you yet
that life is a struggle
and we are all
destined to suffer.
it’s time to come back home?
Home to the wonder and awe and beauty.
Home to the ecstasy of being alive
in the light and the dark
all of it.