When people in the other world wander over
to the edge and look down, we must seem
like darling little children to them.

We play big games, we make things up,
we laugh big laughs and cry big tears.

Of course, the whole idea must seem appealing,
because so many of them choose to drop down
for a life or a few and play here too.

Soon they’re pushing out of the woman — yes,
they look so dear and innocent, smell good too.

Over time, they no longer remember why they came,
and little by little become more and more confused.

For every being they happen to meet — great or small,
wise or foolish — there’s a different point of view.

By the grace of recognition, or the gift of some sweet Friend,
from the depths of their hearts they might eventually hear
the whisper of their own spirit’s immortality.

Gently, they’re returned to the essence
of their natural innocence, graciously
reminded, lest they’ve forgotten:

“Love is all that matters.”