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Beneath the echoes of the years, A gentle voice, untouched by fears, The inner child, so soft, so true, A spark of light in all we do. It dreams in colors wild and bright, Unfurls its wings in quiet night, It laughs with joy, it weeps with care, A fragile truth beyond compare. Amid the chaos, it remains, A healing balm for life’s refrains. To love it well is to reclaim The tender flame within our name. So hold it close, let it ignite, The purest parts that guide our sight. For in that child, unbound, set free, Lies all we’re meant to truly be.
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