as tender as dusk,
misty as trees encircling the lake;
like starlight flitting from place to place,
a dream arrives when i least expect it.
hope is a friend of dreams
and a sister of fantasy,
a shadow walking ahead,
restless as the wind
and shapeless as the pure light;
calm as a soaring hawk,
nimble as a butterfly,
a fantasy of dynamics,
a geometric obsession,
a poem with no lines,
a song with no rests,
and with more freedom than the wind.

hope will pluck out what’s deepest in your heart

but dreams will always have the last word