Sometimes I am burdened with what is profoundly good
And I can't sleep for thinking of it.
There is something that aches,
Something that wisps,
for what is removed from reality.
Transport me there
And I would live and love
More excruciatingly than here.
As I grope for the idealistic --
some that is realistic --
longing crops up
And this life is never enough.
My God, I grope for you,
you who seem more idealistic than realistic.
I want the realistic to be the idealistic --
Are our minds so deranged that we cannot see the ideal which is actually real?
I am burdened by what is profoundly good
And I can't sleep for thinking of it.
It is something that aches,
something that wisps,
for that which is removed from reality.
Transport me there
and certainly I would live and love
More excruciatingly than here.
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