I once saw a picture of a man and a fence,

Painted with sunflowers well over his chest,

And over the fence was chaos and madness,

The pain of this world hidden by gladness.

Another man saw on his pile of books,

and with grave despair gave a disheartened look.

But above the others was another so wise,

His pile of books seemed so infinite and high.

He looked out and saw the clouds and the heavens, 

He saw past the pain,

He knew to dream and understand without pain.

I cannot say I am the first,

For my pile is higher,

But I am not the third,

For his mind is higher. 

I sit near the second,

Maybe higher or lower,

And contemplate the world's great disorder.

I can see the beauty, but mixed with the pain, 

It seems far to bitter for a man to abstain

From erasing the madness, rebooting the game,

But I would not dare to end it all the same.

I fear for my mind, for the world, and it's people,

So what keeps me sane, from going midieval?

Gossamer music that sings with a sigh,

The dreams of a young man that float quite on high,

The ambition of a soul with nothing to lose,

and the wisdom of ages and eons to boot.

The wind in my hair and the sun in my eyes,

Despite the burns I receive from the sky.

My friends, and their laughter, and their jovial airs.

A kiss from a girl, laughter, despair. 

For through all my highs and through all my lows,

I know to question the path that ever rolls.

The path that I tread to the end of my days,

That will lead (hopefully) to green pastures to stay,

and when my time has come to an end,

Lead me to Elsyium and my home once again.