Shouldn’t we be like

the children rejoicing

at every moment

of our eternity?

 

What made us lose

that wondrous play –

that sense of awe

at the infinite?

 

This world was meant to be our light,

our place of exploration,

but it breaks at the seams

with the tales of our delusion

 

severing from ourselves, we go

like broken shards

visages of all that we are, automatons

 

and yet the child within each of us

never dies, waits for our embrace

just behind.

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"Let all you do, be done in love."

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