To stroll beneath this leafy green
beneath a sky so blue,
while contemplating beauty, truth, and the dream
of concepts that are true,
perpetually engaged in pristine pursuit
of knowledge–this is bliss,
until the real world plops its bitter fruit
upon your idyllic blissful tryst.
Oh, these perfect roses have inspired us
with such rare beauty, exquisite perfection;
and our winding paths of conceptual trust
lead to groves of virtual subjection.
But if ever we should stumble,
and forsake the pure ideal,
perhaps it’s then we will be humble
and think the way we feel.