With the eyes of his heart
A child can see things
Such as castles and spaceships
And dragons with wings.
But, he'll leave these behind
With other toys of the child
Filing those dreams
Where such foolery's filed
He'll join with the tribe
With the earth as his home
Knowing life, maybe love,
But little reason to roam.
But, when day's gone to bed
And his body is aching,
He'll scan the dark sky
With his heart somehow breaking.
In the night with the stars
Scattered somewhere out there,
He'll yearn for that cold,
Where there's not any air.
With a smile on his face
He joins others at play,
Still hearing a faint call
Which calls him away.
It's not fortune he seeks,
He's no fool seeking fame,
It's just part of a man,
Which carries no name.
It's not found in books,
In banks, or in bars,
The name of that thing
Calling him to the stars.
Is it part of his soul
Which cries from within?
It pulls and it wounds
Like original sin.
Must he go to the stars
Just because they're out there?
Into space, where it's cold,
And there's not any air?
Maybe. Just maybe,
He remembers a dream
Of the child he thought lost,
But, not lost, it seems.
For a man's but a child,
Who needs to know things
Such as castles and spaceships,
...And dragons with wings.
August 28, 1980
