Our birth is but a sleep and forgetting
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness
And not in utter nakedness
But trailing coulds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.
--William Wordsworth
A little bit of revelation from Wordsworth here. I needed and loved the thoughts in this poem then and I appreciate them still now: we come from another home, and it's waiting for us.
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