How strange it is
To have one heartstrings
Pulled by a childhood song
Of an idealised country
That is a lie in itself
You know it for what it is
But the bittersweet feel
Is so strong as to overcome
Your rationality and still
You wish to be back there
In that illusory time
Of innocence even though
There never was such a time
Man likes to dream
Of a better tomorrow
Disappointed by today
Obfuscated by the past
Is that the appeal of religion?
If one has screwed one's life
The hope of an eternal one
Is sure to have traction.
Lucette C. Bailliet ©
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