My unfolded hand reveals a collection of
wishes that haven’t been created yet
A dandelion for my sanity
and a wishbone for my brother’s health

The misty rain promised to collect these hopes
and turn them into something real
I twirl my body into a spin with arms stretched
to grab a handful of solemn cloud

But soon the thunder crashes
carrying my song away
the lightening strikes turning my wish dust to fire

And the ashes in my hands remind me that
dreams don’t come true without a nightmare to prove it