Waffles and Sunday Pancakes: A Poetic Message from My Higher Self to My Inner Child

Waffles and Sunday Pancakes

Waffles and Sunday pancakes.

Puppy dog tails, birds, and sails.

Through the wind, the ocean, and overcoast.

Magic and sunrise and buttered toast.

Topsy turvy curtain seams

Turtles, snails, and shiny things.

Where o where in the world are we.

When the sun, ocean. and painted toes meet.

To the moon, the stars, Venus and MarsOpen air and everywhere.

Freedom sings between the trees.For you, and me, and all the things.

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A Message from My Higher Self to My Inner Child

This poem came through in less than a minute.

No overthinking, no planning, just a spontaneous flow of imagery and rhythm that felt light, joyful, and oddly healing. When I read it back, I realized it wasn’t just nonsense play.

It was a message.

A message from my higher self to my inner child.

It felt like my soul whispering, “Remember when life was this simple?” 

Pancakes, puppy tails, shiny things.

These aren’t just random details; they’re symbols of innocence,

play, and the little pleasures that used to make the world feel magical.

Somewhere along the way, life layered on responsibility and pain and expectation.

But beneath all that, my child self still exists, curious, open,

laughing at the wind and believing in freedom.

The “freedom sings between the trees” line hits me the hardest.

It feels like an invitation to return to that natural rhythm where joy isn’t earned, it’s remembered.

The ocean, the stars, the morning sun, all of it is part of the same truth:

that magic still exists in the everyday, if I let myself see it.

Maybe this is what integration really looks like, not just healing old wounds, but allowing the playful, wonder-filled parts of us to come back home.

My higher self isn’t asking my inner child to grow up;

it’s reminding her that she was never wrong for seeing beauty everywhere.

So maybe the message is simple: Freedom is found in remembering how to play again.