Is it true that
The warrior dreams
And the dreamer struggles?
Then aren't they one
Within each other?
Isn't that the beauty?
The beauty
That can console the artist
And free the slave.
The beauty
That can make all things one
And yet
Separate night from day.

I have heard it said
That a brave man fears death
And a coward fears life.
Then it is time
For this beast
To welcome the strife.
For it is better
To live and move
Within each day
Than to slumber in dreams
That will take my life

But is it true
That the philanderer is loved
And the lover scorned?
Then painfully
I was born.
Cast into a world
With one foot of air
And one of stone
I fall to earth
And stand on my own.

And on a clear crisp winter day
I stand with friends
And gaze upon the calm blue bay.
And in the warm winter sun
I see all the things
I can become;
Strength with a conscience,
Goodness with a will,
And an enduring optimism
That will never be still.