#392: The World I Cannot Reach

If there must be a world I cannot reach,
it might as well be beautiful and green;
let breezes bearing petals kiss the hills
and ruffle grasses like a child's hair;

And let the sun set gold there, like a peach;
let purple-flower clouds complete the scene,
where silver-armored fish sleep in the rills
and nothing gentle, pure, or good is rare.

If I must stay here, trapped in glass and steel,
where nothing blooms, where everything is gray,
I think I'll bear it better if I know:

The world I cannot reach is warm and real,
and all are happy there who've found the way
and someone (if not I, then you) may go.
_