Bold men sought it out,
upturning the world's corners
as they stumbled gallantly
right past it.
Fools.
Streets of gold are only
known by aimless feet,
whisperers, walking
on air.
In secret places, Shangri-La
exists, calm, nestled in the
mountains of a sudden embrace,
breathlessness.
Confessions, ancient mantras,
softly tumble down across
glass lakes, widened eyes.
A single kiss, a flower blooms
in Eden. Lost in perfumed rapture,
neither frets about
Forbidden Fruit.
No tempter, serpentine, appears,
for there is enough fruit to be
shared, flowers to be grown!
O, Traveller, go not beyond the door!
The sacred place you seek
lies not beyond the cold horizon,
but within the reach of a loving glance,
a warm smile.
As those in love know, Paradise
is never found, but made
by two hearts working to make it,
gloriously, so.
Thomas Donnelly
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/never-found-but-made/
