“When love beckons to you follow him,
"Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinion may wound you.
And when he speaks to you belive in him.
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.” -Gibran (The Prophet, On Love)
I'm swinging back and forth and exhilaration soars in my veins with each forward plunge. Just a little farther and maybe I'll fly away...! But gravity (reality) kicks in (did it exist before?) and the only thing that flies away is hope.
The Appearing has put a lot of emphasis on the importance of childlike faith lately and it has really brought to surface some things I have not considered before.
I miss the exuberant childlove (without guile or expectation) I would feel when sitting in my grandfather's lap. Where I, at the age of five, would look at him and my heart would swell so big the only way I could think of to staunch that bursting feeling was to kiss him on the forehead.
I remember when I could play on a swing set for hours, never bored with that repetitive motion, unheeding of how pointless such an action might be. But after all this discussion about childlike faith I had an apostrophe (film reference, don't bother correcting me) and realized that it isn't really futile to do something like that if it brings you pleasure...
I want that feeling back.
I want to return to that place.
neverland
