I am alone
Not wanting to own
Not hungry to commend
But always without
With eyes wide shut
I can not tell dreams from reality
So I trust neather
When will my time come?
What will it be made of?
Years have I walked empty handed
On the outside
Collecting scraps of hope
Speaking to beast and insect alike
They read the answer from my face:
Love the high and love the low,
Love the fire and love the snow,
Imagination will take you
where you need to go.