For without truth I travel a stray

leaving no one in my path

certainly avoiding their need to say

I might once feel their wrath.

If I might pretend that my world

exist in a rich and fancy land

straight away, my life unfurled;

the lights come on, white sand.

I only wish that my dreams could spell

a path of delight, love abound,

where we all beheld time’s eye’s well,

to open doors, a lovely sound.

Once, when the sea opened slow

we watched as time drifted toward

a frightened outcome we all know

instead we listened not to the horde.

When ruthless fear, our lives are held upon

no scrutiny, when then dreams have won.