The People of Eden

I shan't behave as if the day's my last,
For, at some point, there will be an outcast,
And the people of Eden will complain;
We'll gather experience and refrain,
Until, with help, we discover our path:
And we're happy, then, with all that we hath. The next person picks up where I left off,
Though the bad will prattle and often scoff.
Tortured minds live a dimension below,
For they drive to a miserable glow,
And compare instant gratification
With all the good of sad mediation, Until, at last, they're insupportable,
And they turn, if they live, to the table.
It takes some of us a while to arrive,
And yet, if we live, we remain ali