Refusing to Unbe

From my childhood,
It hasn't changed.
The clouds still roll 
In the heavens
And wind shakes the branches 
Of the trees that line the highway.
And the warming spring
With its stubborn,
Willful,
Obstinate insistence,
Refuses to unbe,
Or even to bend 
To these lower fables
That propel the hosts of men
Toward the abyss.  
When was it 
That we became 
So adult
As to believe
That there is anything
So important as these?
When did we loose track
Of that childlike faith
That lies upon its back
Of a summer day
And wastes it away
In musing?
I don't know,
But I think we lost
A thing not worth loosing.
And, call it folly,
I'm going back,
Back to the days 
When I believed
That someone,
Somewhere
Was looking out for me.
Will you come?
Will you leave the thing
You think you want
But can never really have
For the pace
That sees
The April breeze
In the clouds that float o'erhead?
I'm leaving.
And if you contemplate it for a while,
You'll agree
That the time for departure has come?
We'll leave
And we won't come back
Accept in the reflections
Of sunlit leaves.
It's there we'll meet
The lost ones here below
By refusing to unbe.
We'll warm them 
With the love 
That remembers 
When they could also see.
And one by one,
We'll gather them
To the thing they lost
Until all who will,
Refuse to leave.
And then we'll shut the door
Behind us.