A dream goes drifting like a cloud
Across a sky of molten colour
Enveloped in divinest shroud
Gestating for infinite hours
Until harnessed to consciousness
Yielded to individual mind
Brought in to focus by inquisition
Some dreams are mean, some are kind
The individual and collective psyche
Wrestle for dominance
But they can be harnessed to harmony
And brought in to concordance
It was known to Jung that thoughts are sung
By more than one sole spirit
Symbols and ideas magically wrung
It enlightens one to be near it
It's just that one must be aware
That thoughts transcend one mind
If you try to perceive the ether there
Untold treasures you will find