Utopia
There you can be who you want to be -
Nobody’s yelling or carrying on.
Pure brooks replenish rivers
Fit for swimming and drinking
And on the seashore, no tangled plastic
Nor the matted corpses of seabirds.
There you can really create stuff -
No one’s dissing your best endeavours.
Sleep is easy in the quiet safety of home
With dreams that are serene
And on the TV screen no endless tales of crime
Nor gloomy broadcasts all the flaming time.
There you feel you are truly living -
Nothing’s menacing your peace of mind as
Starlings flock in rhythmical shoals
When autumn days submit to dusk
And on the edge of felicity - no sudden thuds
Nor faraway grey thunder grumbling.
"O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams." - Hamlet Act II scene ii
8 October 2025
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