COME BACK HOME

When you’ve done it again,
And there’s no one to care.
When it all unravels,
And you cannot repair.
It’s the Universe whispering,
‘Come back home’.
And the Universe whispers,
‘Come back home.’

When you cry your tears,
When you’ve made your bed.
When you stray from the moment,
With no rest in your head.
It’s the Universe calling,
‘Come back home’,
My dear.
And the Universe calls,
‘Come back home.’

When the heat is on,
When tomorrow brings fear,
When there is no dinner,
And yesterday’s still here,
It’s the Universe crying,
‘Come back home’.
And the Universe cries,
‘Come back home.’

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Back in touch with the inner child

TO A CHILD

home games

The greatest poem ever known
Is one all poets have outgrown:
The poetry, innate, untold
Of being only four years old.

Still young enough to be a part
Of Nature’s great impulsive heart,
Born comrade of bird, beast and tree
And unselfconscious as the bee-

And yet with lovely reason skilled
Each day new paradise to build
Elate explorer of each sense,
Without dismay, without pretence!

In your unstained transparent eyes
There is no conscience, no surprise:
Life’s queer conundrums you accept,
Your strange Divinity still kept . . .

And life, that sets all things in rhyme,
May make you poet, too, in time-
But there were days, O tender elf,
When you were Poetry itself!

Christopher Morley