Poetry - Paradise

Paradise

The leaves blow in the wind,
Like runners racing for the finishing lines.
I watch a spectator of the marvels around me
Enveloped in nature and all of its glory.

The birds swoop, high and low
Over and back again and again.
Tall willow trees loom over the forest like ancient guardians.
The hares are racing to the nearest safe spot
Predators in full chase, hunting for its next meal,
For its survival.

I am the spectator, the watcher, the crowd.
The sweet scents of the meadows grace me every time I breath in that clear air from the snowy mountains.
I could almost name all the different scents from all the wild flowers basking in the morning sun, swaying in the cool breeze.

To stay here forever is what I want; it is my wish, my dream.
This uninhabited, peaceful place.
But then, I wake from my daydream,
And I see a different sort of wilderness, one filled with toxic fumes,
Cars congested, blocking the city streets, drivers blaring their horns, arguing for reasons even they cant fathom, they simply are.
A place where it never stops, there is no such thing as peace or satisfaction.

I go back to my brightly lit computer screen, just another cubicle out of a hundred, on a floor of twenty others like it, in a building of just another thousand. I am a nobody. I smile, but itâEUTMs a sad smile a knowing smile because for a moment, I knew I had gone somewhere I could never go again.

I had experienced paradise.