Under the starlit sky I stand gazing.
With outstretched arms reaching upward,
I grasp for my dreams.
I need not touch them for their radiance to feed my soul.
The soul needs dreams for its nourishment.
Without them it shrivels like a plant denied sunlight.
I know their origin, nor does it seem possible to touch them.
Still I seek to behold their essence.
And I desire to encase them in concrete form.
Perhaps the Imagination bridges spirit and matter.
Dreams and form.
They will one day show their face to me.
This I believe.
Inspiration knows no limits.
O Muses, lift me higher and higher past this mortal realm!
Let me play in the Elysian Fields with the gods and goddesses,
and drink from their fountains so clear and sweet.
I close my eyes.
Bacchus intoxicates me with celestial drink.
Soon I see the stars far below.
I reach down and touch them.
The Muses embrace me tenderly, smiling.
In their eyes I behold my dreams one by one.