We read through books,
roll the dice,
as we gamble that their
words will not confirm our
disillusions
Only to reach conclusions
that our choices
are vindicated by
trails
past spirits took
We set sail for fertile lands,
lands that give promise,
of yielding an abundance
of hope
Lope in the fields
of swaying tall grasses
indulge in landscapes
free of the
huddled masses
And no matter
how much we experience,
it will never be enough,
We'll always long for more
and to drink from
silver cups