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?