Paradise: A Sonnet
I've visited a paradise or two,
by Max Reif
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...