Dreams of Arcadia

Every night I dream of an exile to Arcadia:

That land untainted.

There no serpents lie, bidding me to take their fruit.

There is no box of temptation.

In that land, I can live and love as I desire

For we were created to love.

Yet, I am told that love is a sin immeasurable;

That I commit the unspeakable.

For such crimes, I have condemned myself to hang at the gallows,

And swing there for the crows.

For that reason, I hide myself beneath a mask;

Carved of gold to hide the sin.

I let none look beneath this mask for the visage they will see

Is one of deepest horror.

Through this golden mask I watch the world go by

Though my soul aches.

Is it envy that I watch this world through?

An envy to be like them.

To live and play as their truest selves without a mask

Perhaps this is why I desire Arcadia.