Where do the clouds rush to so urgently?
How do our dreams persist from night to night?
and Who would you become if you were free?
Our dreams derive "become" from root of "be";
The clouds construct their castles for delight;
The stars succumb to scintillate our sight;
I am a thought of Who imagined me.

      My brothers, sisters, children, parents all,
How shall we share our mystifying joy
amid such witnessing of stars and clouds?
Come, let us dance in such a bounteous ball
with ever-mounting counterpoint employed,
and join our voices clear and glad and loud!