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