I envy those who remain 
A child.
 Living in fantasy 
Brandishing a sword, 
Or 
Greeting the world with wand in hand.

Who shot an arrow 
Or cast a spell 
When the world told them
No 
 Demeanor unchanged when mocked. 
Who put on their cloak and 
pitched a paper back tent.

Those who were always seen 
Tent in hand, 
Smiling 
Because they know that another world was just a page away.

Do not let your child die 
Before you. 
Let yourself dream 
Give permission to adventure 
Lay under the sky 
Made of paper and stars of ink. 
Take time 
To pitch your paper back tent

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