The Wanderers came and went.
Never looking back, never tipping their hat.
Alone they travelled, none have even met.
What could they be looking for, what could they be looking at.
Paradis, Paradise, Paraiso
It is that timeless concept that evades reality
Never to be seen, never to be experienced in this life or the next
Many fall and rise to find this triviality,
Enticed by Its feeling of wonder, its radiance that all will be for the best.
Decadence, Destruction, Decay
Others seek to build it at any expense
Erected upon the bones of the those not enlightened
their tower of Babel, made unstable, atop which there can’t be any sense
As any false idol, it will soon collapse to the breath of the blighted.
Father, Brother, Sister, Mother our delusion has forsaken us,
Our wills are pure but our methods vile
We soak in a cesspool of our own bile
This vison, our journey can’t be just.
Our travels have taken us far and yonder
Our best possible of worlds is one of wonder
Our fantastical and unbelievable creation
Our perfection of pure decoration
Misery, Sorrow, Fantasy
-Dante Novoa
I like this piece a lot, Dante. I think this whole mystery surrounding paradise is a great connection to our lives and the stories we read. There was a whole “voyage and displacement” theme this whole semester, which is what many people experience when searching for paradise. Just look at the characters in the stories we read. In looking for their own “paradises,” they had to go to great lengths. They never had the easy path to paradise. I think that is connected to the misery, sorrow, and fantasy line. The whole idea that there is a “mystical” aspect to paradise, something we all expect to achieve. Great job!