A familiar sense that I cannot describe
Memories of a forgotten tribe
Their music gives fortune as stories are told
Their music gives warmth in a time that is cold

'I lost myself on that November night’
Rings so true, for I thought that I might
Climb into the staves and silently shout
‘I swear to never, ever come out'

Ideas flash by like shooting stars
Each one shimmering bright against night
Often they glimmer and shine from afar
Or demand to be hidden from sight

Come back to me, star, come back!  I scream

*You have no reason to leave

For you are the marvellous hopes and dreams

To which I so desperately cleave

"Oh to be free as that bird!"
He cried from between the wrought iron bars
"To sing as she sings,
To be the wind beneath wings,
To be able to watch from afar;
Would be a dream."
Or so it seemed

One day an officer came along
And told the man he could run free
He thought he was dreaming
Sat still for a while
For a while not believing
And stifling a smile
As he looked up and questioned "Who? Me?"

There was wind in his hair
As he flew out the doors
And found himself, quite some time after
Sat on a bench with his head in his hands
Lost in his own hopeful laughter

The sky clouds over
Freeing fewer rays of sun
The path is once again unclear
Once again determination is fuelled
By a burning desire
To get to the place where nothing falls but water

I look around
The water tumbles happily down strong, jagged cliffs
The spirited torrent unchanging
The rays that remain beam brighter than ever
Allowing no single speck of darkness;
Merely a few clouds

dancer of the clouds,
ink of dream,
as if the sky, hushed
and utterly forlorn,
turned a pirouette.