Ode to Idealism

I found these words that I wrote when I was a teenager and wanted to post it as a tribute to idealism:

"You were the first, purely ideal love of my soul,
When I looked in your eyes I felt it.
I thought I saw something:
That capability of deep emotional thought
That all-too-sparse ability
To look beyond the horizon of our everyday experience,
The feeling
That there is something more to life than what is seen,
Some underlying truth,
Some ever-pervading beauty that links us all.

And although I never really knew, whence the ardor grew
It was there--it was inescapably there.

But all my days were trances
And all my nightly dreams
Were turned aside it seems
By you--the one who deems that we must avoid extremes.

Well, what I felt was nothing but extremes
At what I thought was here
The one I needed, the one I heeded, the missing hemisphere.

You say it's just not real,
This world in which I feel,
But is it not true,
That blue is not blue,
And all that we see
Is all that we knew?
Is it not true
That we all lack a clue,
And all that you see
Came from within you?

It is true that I am an idealist,
But I can hear reality's ever-approaching gallop;
Experience is steadily turning me into a realist.

Being an idealist,
I lack tact, it seems so artificial.
I have more faith in intuition
Than I do in practical values.

As for the passing of the day,
I'll find solace in the sunset
and the beauty of each ray."