In a perfect world, you and I could saunter— free.
Breathing fresh, salt-licked air.
Where the ocean reaches for our feet, and the sun melts into the sea, and the sky drapes over its long lost twin.
Where the forest and the sky and the land love humanity dearly, like a neighborhood that could thrive for eternity.

In a perfect world, there would be no bicker of capitalists and environmentalists— merely political empathy.
I dream of boring news channels.
When red, white, and blue don't seem so embarrassing, nor disgraceful to half of the country, and "liberty and justice for all" hugs "all" comfortably.
When the government is wed to candor bound by the promise of life and liberty, and diplomacy relieves, and monopolies fancy consumers' well-being.

In a perfect world, nature might be respected— mutualistic co-inhabitants.
Consideration of life outside of the human race.
Where we see trees and admire, "How green!" And we water our gardens that dwell by their feet, shaded by swaying leaves.
Where creatures frisk to the wind's melody, oblivious to domesticated captivity, and we kill out of need rather than capital greed.

In a perfect world, I would find you and you would find me— together, free.
Fruit bears on vines of every minded tree. Our Spirits bind and mend and weave.
Where banter is strictly playful, and we teach love to walk and talk, and comfortable silence parades routinely while we brew morning lattes and steep evening herbal teas.
Where the forest and the sky and the land love humanity dearly, like a neighborhood that could thrive for eternity.



Friday 14 March 2025