Give it Up

Here is a poem, or a song, depending on how you look at it. (Squinting with one eye is recommended.)

Give it up, give it back,
return the light to the grocery rack;
now is not the time to keep it all.

The door was open; now it's shut,
you seem to stuck in the same old rut,
wondering why you're never through.
It's time to pull up the crusty tent pegs,
knock the rust from off your hood.
Now's the time to up and wander;
but one day you'll settle down for good.

Just because you have to leave now,
doesn't mean this was not your home.
You'll find this door open and waiting,
when you pass through Jordan's gloom.

I know it hurts if just a little,
to feel the waking wind of dawn,
I know there's a loss, if still a riddle,
to grow and learn and find it gone.

But walk the road and home will be waiting:
desire planted during a mortal phase,
eternal innocence, eternal wonder;
the light of life on a child's face.