I talk a lot here about leaving behind childish views and becoming "adults of God" - but this poem is a reminder to me that part of spiritual maturity is regaining a bit of the unobstructed wonder and acceptance of childhood we almost always lose when we move into a world that demands more than just a bit of cynicism and self-protection - that we can't be childish, but we must return to being child-like. I really like the examples Jeff used, since I think they have fascinating symbolic meaning, especially with a religious application.
Childhood is being afraid of the dark . . .
and believing a night light will scare away the monsters.
Childhood is bringing home a wild animal . . .
and asking if you can keep it.
Childhood is digging for worms and fossils . . .
in the playground at school.
Childhood is chasing down the ice cream truck on a hot summer day . . .
no matter how far you have to run to catch it.
Childhood is playing with anyone . . .
and not caring about origin or orientation.
Childhood is . . .
I want to extrapolate a bit on the poem from my own life's perspective:
I am not afraid of the dark . . .
because I have constructed a night light that scares away the monsters.
I am able to entertain thoughts that others see as "wild animals" . . .
because I have had so much practice handling them in a controlled environment and now can handle them on my own.
I like digging for worms (common things) and fossils (hidden things) . . .
even in the most common places where others play without realizing what is all around but unseen by them.
I enjoy chasing down fulfilling things (especially thoughts and concepts), even when it's hot . . .
no matter how far I have to run to catch them.
I find great joy in interacting with and learning from anyone . . .
and not caring about origin, orientation or perspective.
My life is . . .
sweet bliss (because it is uniquely mine).