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Friday, January 14, 2011

Come Home

 Should you choose to enter my world, then you must first forget. Become simple.
  Forget all that has been learned of life and knowledge and what farce there may be in accepted *wisdom,* Become an innocent and be willing to experience the awe of a child. Be willing to tremble at the strength of an evening sun, be willing to catch snow flakes on your tongue and to dig your toes into the sand. Become a child with me.

"First Kiss"
18x24 Oil on Canvas
   I shake my head at those who sarcastically negate what youth know so easily claiming life taught them differently. "Ah, yes, I knew everything when I was that young too!" They laugh.
   I tell you now, if you want to know how to hope or love, ask a child. They have not yet learned the cynicism, negativity or the defeat of social standards. They have not learned of judgement or who is better than whom. They have not built walls or shunned differences. Indeed, these people know love, and forbid they ever know the arrogance of my age.
   These are my teachers, the innocent with their small words, big smiles and real tears. These are my Masters. I pray to grow enough to become what I always was under the labels, before the standards, behind  my judgements. I pray to know the wisdom of a child.
   So, maturity is to me growing enough to unlearn and growing small enough to hope, to love freely with the wonder of a child. I seek such clarity, and miss it by miles.
   Don't grow up with me. Grow small with me. Come home, and per chance, lead me there too.
"Return to Innocence" Enigma: h://

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