Maybe oceans are the sky
And all fish fly
Birds lay swimming upside down
Maybe trees are hair
And rain the tears
Which Mother Nature's stare
Or stars the sparks of unborn fates
Maybe leaves have souls
And rocks keep hold of countless
Past forgotten dates.
Maybe clouds blow wind
And mountains glare
At humble township's city-growth.
Maybe snow is kisses floating down
From 'igious Eden's love and warmth.
        The truth may be in all these things
        Or may be not at all.
        Without a dream what is a day
        But food and sleep and numbing ought.
        Without a dream why pass a day?
        Why fool ourselves?
        What for?