Utopia (Poetry)

I wandered naked through a perfect city,
the streets of dawn were marbled with my name,
sun’s bloody red ran down the stainless gutters,
the buildings soared, each doorway arched the same.

Unspoilt, the green squares railinged-off and empty —
no litter bins — no litter — and no sign
of any soul to break the rule of silence,
the only body breathing there was mine.

Vast domes and towers glinted pale and faultless —
their unpolluted outlines loomed too pure
for one more used to planner’s misconceptions
and ruined architecture’s strange allure...

This metropolis felt sterile in its concept,
its walls untouched by hand, its ageless stones
unpitted, for no tribe had fought to claim it —
no history, no artefacts, no bones...

Designed in dreams, Utopia rose flawless,
its map unfolding in the waiting air —
a fantasy too perfect to believe in,
its hollow truth too tangible to bear.

I left that city, chilled and disillusioned,
locked its gates and threw away the key,
but still its spires enchant me from a distance,
invite escape from this reality.