Shall we be out there as the sun goes down,
Spreading his gold upon the dark grey sea;
As the moon spills light through the ghostly tree
And draws around her limbs a silver gown
Of gossamer lacework leaves? When the crown
Of stars appears, shall we be there to see
Orion hunt dreams wreathed in mystery?
Shall we ride with him to track our dream down?

Or shall we draw curtains across that dream,
And once more shun evening's golden light
To view by remote other people's plight,
Their drama, their lives played out on our screen?
Why choose the shadow when we could careen
Wild with the stars and fly brave through the night?