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Our birth is but a sleep and ...

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:

The Soul that rises with us, our Life's Star

Hath had elsewhere it's setting,

And cometh from afar:

Not in entire forgetfulness.

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home :

Heaven lies about us in our infancy!

Shades of the prison-house begin to close

upon the growing boy,

But he beholds the light and whence it flows,

He sees it in his joy. 

William Wordsworth: Intimations of Immortality

The stillness of the moment ...
Falling upward ...