In the shadowed streets that sigh
Under burden of human cry,
From the troubled hearts that weep,
As secrets silent sleep.

There flows a river where flowers bloom
On banks of gold and verdant plume,
Where zaftig earth finds its voice,
In nature's sweet rejoice.

And as the dawn in crimson hue,
Breaks on world refreshed anew,
Sun of hope and prayer true
Sparkles silver yon pavements' dew.

The moonlit sky hovers
a dark and empty street
A night submerged with wonder
and stillness

In a blissful voice, the night sang
about a faraway land,
where the pastures danced
and summer was everlasting

Lustrous knights roam the land
and the goblins lurks in the shadow
Like the darkness I lay on
As my bones relish in the calm
of this wonderful night

...but Utopia
   is not a place
   as people
   erroneously regard-
    rather a state
    of mind--
    the search
    for perfect equilibrium
    with the Yin and Yang
     in harmony
     and congruence -
     it's fascinating
     but unreachable
    a will o'-the-wisp-
    the chase is futile-

    seek not Utopia
    it's a myth:
    to fall for it
    is to be servile

Don't be wary
of my presence
I'm only a spectator
nothing will I say
listening to others--merely
with no motive
or agenda
I observe impassionately
there's lesson unfolding
and when all
is over
I'll leave quietly
none would even know
or notice me at all