Arcadia

Journey from Arcadia
(after seeing Ben Okri's Great Railway Journey)

Arcadia, a place where heaven dwells on earth,
Where innocence and ignorance combine
To form a peaceful paradise;
Not fools nor fantasts but philosophers opine.

I had my own arcadia back when a boy,
A teenager returning home from class;
My haven, to be found in the arcade,
A record shop behind some gawdy glass.

On entering the arcade peace of mind would flow,
Past now forgotten sweet shops and boutiques
The music drawing me away from life
And lessons that had made the days like weeks.

Arcadians kept flocks and sang their songs
Their pastoral idyllic life no more.
And so it was with my arcadia;
Vinyl shepherds, many songs in store.

The arcade isn't standing any more,
Demolished my arcadia of youthful bliss.
The world is not so innocent and pure,
Arcadia I cannot help but miss.