Plangent cries
Of a Spanish guitar.
Stray dogs roam
The cobbled streets;
With wild, searching eyes.
In the bustling marketplace,
The locals gather for warm connection
Absorbed among the meats and spices
And garments and bracelets.
Some older, but wiser, withered faces
Look to night’s stars for guidance.
I came here to escape the fevered city
Now I find myself in this torpid town.
But I am far from here; my mind
Still fixed on a million trivial things.
I’m so tired of all the futile games
We’re forced to play under the sun.
What is it that I’m looking for
On this retreat from routine life?
Perhaps Nature will open her arms
And embrace me like a long lost son.
In this toxic epoch of doubt
I desire the dreams of flowers.
I’ve come here for reassuring answers
And to learn an ancient lament;
That will teach me compassion; .
That will bind me to the earth
I understand in my bones
That there is no paradise:
Only fleeting illusions;
Fragments of childhood visions.
Some say that love is the answer,
But in love the archers are blind.
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