Let it be

I want the 1930s.
The 1800s.
I want to immerse myself in a history so undoubtedly romanticised,
But seductive nonetheless.
I want to live in a time when education was about knowledge,
And original thought.
Philosophy, classics, literature.
When people formulated ideas instead of following them.
I want to raise romanticism from the dead,
Bring back the soul, make people free to express,
Make people open to creation.
I want to rid the world of the coldness,
Make people perceive again.
Stop thinking of things in terms of practicalities, policies, money,
Think of the world in terms of its people, not its leadership,
See people as people, not a capitalist’s benefit.

I want a house in the country,
With a library full of old books and musty scents,
An attic complete with wooden beams and junk,
And a cat, who lies on the oak desk while I work.
I want to spend Sunday afternoons at car boot sales,
Searching for articles full of history and character.
I want to listen to music, compose music, write lyrics,
Read books till 5am whilst gazing out at the tide,
In a time before nature lay collapsed in its sorrow;
A king overthrown.
I want to invite Socrates to dinner;
Within the bindings of an original book.
I want to speak with a loved one about history, philosophy, politics;
Lay on a rug in front of an old log fire.
I want to express my idealism,
Without my realism frowning upon it.

I want to take walks along rambling forest paths,
Take in scenery grown so rare and picturesque,
And take bike rides through long, meandering roads.
I want to sit and talk around a fire whilst camping in the woods,
And dance to acoustic guitar in the moonlight.
I want to write poetry, novels, dialogues,
During a time when it was acceptable to do so,
Before sense and practicality took over,
Before superficial thought took precedence.
I want to be a philosopher, a scientist, a writer.
Discuss ideals without the need to be right,
Debate without the desire to win.
Learn about the world,
Wind back time,
Revel in history,
And then change it.