I've visited a paradise or two,
or made them, with a few brave, kindred souls.
But something always seemed to go askew;
each house of Vision's brick was pocked with holes.
I could not make the walls so dense to keep
impermanence or discontent away.
The only seeds I had, and sowed, would reap
a mixed and blemished crop that did not pay,
and finally, I fled each paradise,
though others' lives went on and maybe some
have truly found a Temple of the Wise,
with wisdom that has not yet to me come.
My own dreams yielded to some trickster's play.
Perhaps, when dreams have all been ripped away...
Max Reif
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/paradise-a-sonnet/
