There is a grassy highlands in the mind,
Away from bored realities - the daily grind.
A place where fiction, music, and philosophies,
wait dormant there for you to up and seize them,
free them, take them, breathe them, taste them;
Here is where our passions lie,
a sanctuary riches cannot buy.
When you reach this place society dissolves,
The marketplace on which the world revolves,
Must fulfill - financial treadmill - existential grief.
Incessant inner monologues, God - Lack of belief.
All meaning seeking questioning fades in the luminescence,
of enlightening self-knowledge of your true, pure, human essence.
In these highlands live the dreamers, the idealists,
They share utopian ideas in shady groves.
Inspired by Huxley, Nietzsche, transcendental theorists,
And from their introspection we all grow.
In essence we are very simple creatures,
The human animal likes pleasure - dislikes pain,
But only in the highlands,
can our imagination find and
then discover what pleasure 'is' when well defined.