What is a dream other than it is apart from reality?
What is the urge that forces us to go within and expresses out?
What is this longing for what is to come?
A better and prettier picture of what we see.
What is this fire that dims and then grows brightly, extinguishes, but not quite.
How to climb the biggest mountain?
Swim across the frozen river?
Dive deep into the ocean?
Soar across the sky?
Searching and longing, the eyes strain to see farther and longer into the distance
For a path, opportunity or someone.
Green are the hills, low are the valley
The Earth is wide and fields far.
I build a house on top of a hill that looks across the fields
No longer soaring to find that golden star
Pink are my bricks, sturdy is my straw roof
Puff, puff, goes the smoke through the chimney
Puff puff, puff puff goes my dream