Milking the sadness life can bring

So that it may not become rancid.

We hone out thoughts to razors edge

Only to cut a string that's too long.

Maybe the life we envision is a cloud

That changes as the sun breaks through.

Warming the dreamers, the cold of heart too,

With the rays of hope each can secure.

Maybe the tomorrow dreamers dream

Is really a myth of sages long ago.

And maybe the reality is life alone,

For us to paint on a canvas of love.