The world is a garden...

The world is a garden.
A light bathes the world.
The cleanness of the air,
    (not any longer)
The greens after rain,
the open country dresses in grass
    like the sheep's in its wool.
A pain without bitterness;
A live butterfly on the spit.
Wake up the tender memories:
Barefoot young women,
dresses fluttering,
robust with youth,
insidious joy with no reason.
I don't insist on the old addictions-
-to protect me from sudden joy.
And the woman ugly?
And the man crass?
Meaningless.
They are all in a fog like me.
The empty can,
the manure,
the leper on his horse.
They are all resplendent.
On the cloud a king,
a kingdom,
a jester with his fan-dangles,
a prince. 
I pass them by,
    they are solid.
What I don't see exists more than
    flesh.
God gave me this unforgettable afternoon,
    I rubbed my eyes and saw:
Like the sky,
the real world is pastoral...