Primordial Nostalgia The Society August 30, 2012 Poetry By Joshua Philipp At night alone, I sometimes dream of a place which seems so far away. Quietly sitting by a stream. With words this place so hard to say. In distant lands, its legends told of flowered hills and ancient trees. The weight of wonders, words cannot hold. Its songs are carried on the breeze. With kindness its beauty, the people assist. Every action contains a thought of each-other. For why I ask do we exist? But to illuminate the hearts of one-another. Yet dreams do fade with reality’s wake With much work to do for mankind’s sake. Joshua Philipp is a newspaper editor, writer, and poet living in Astoria, New York City. He is vice president of the Society of Classical Poets. Other Poems by Joshua Philipp Related Post ‘To a Red-Winged Black Bird on the Advent of Spring... To a Red-Winged Black Bird on the Advent of Spring For some a robin heralds in the Spring. Others: a crocus or a daffodil. My old man claims it’s... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.