The splendid southern sun lights the land
     breeding the greenest grass
     exploding the fairest flowers
     reflecting the widest seas
     feeding the richest soil
     and the kindest people
The vast open ocean soaks the skin
The soft white sand scalds the feet
The breezy air is humid
     saturated with ecstasy
     but damp with opportunity

But as I venture north
     films of simple nostalgia conceal these memories
     escapes to the southern sun now intermittent.

Bliss is overcome with solitude.
Reality refracts the northern lamps
     replacing the herald of each new day with a sobering awakening.

Every day passes slowly
     as the factory of life once again begins
     as the iron cogs of monotony turn
     in their recurrent spin.
The last bursts of escape are torn
     ripped between the brutish artisans of monotony
          like scraps thrown to the dogs
          a loaf dropped amongst slaves.

This is the limit of our blessed lives
     Endless toil and fleeting happiness.
If not, show me more
     a rescue from these binding shackles.
But if so, may I dream
     of the southern sun?