That thing that joins me to all others
By some hidden geometry
Mothers, fathers,sisters,brothers
Are all a part of me
Like a moistened round of earthly clay
Waiting for my knife
I Invite imagination out to play
And mould my perfect life
The secret blueprints which I keep
Secure inside my mind
I dream them to be before I sleep
And when I awake I find
That they have come to pass
It's no surprise to me
For thoughts and wishes carry mass
In the land of what will be.
Where the clay twists into something real
Whatever I demand
As it turns upon my potters wheel
Moulded by my hands