Birds Of Paradise Poem by Mark Heathcote

We are all of us birds of paradise.
So why isn't this life joyful? I suppose
It is for a few, but for me and you.
I'm not sure what we can do; I'm not opposed.
To happiness, and nor are you, what price
Are ecstasy and bliss? Can we pursue them?

Can I and you achieve it?
Love, where's our nirvana to be found?
My heart is crimson, and it bleeds easily.
Having established your scent like a hound,
I love you, and yet it hurts very deeply.
We can't achieve something sacred.

This world is a garden without harmony.
But it is entwined with sweet honeysuckle.
Bee's tireless work returns a blessing.
Yet carry; still a sting; life's such a puzzle.
There's great beauty but disharmony.
With you, there's no more need for acquiescing.

We are all of us birds of paradise.
I am joyful about this pleasant evening.
For the sunset humbly having spent it with you.
Every day, our bounty is increasing.
So, together, what can be optimised?
What more can we expect now?