Paradise. . .

to some
it’s balm
and tall-stemmed
swaying, bending palm,

and, to others,
it is storms
and wind
that bring refreshing snow and ice,

but, no matter what
the habitat
or common temperature range is,
when nothing ever changes,
no matter what
its quality or name is,
it can bore you
through to tears,
till you would leave it in a trice.

to tune yourself
so that you choose to go
with time and space
and nature’s flow,
be the place idyllic
or the dreadful vision of a cynic,
would seem to be
to follow
one choice piece
of sound advice.

Or, at least,
it’s worth a try,
because, you never know,
the journey or its endpoint
might be nice.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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