A woven depiction of sky and trees, many that came and passed by me. They held me steady, I wanted to fly. Between some golden threads nearby. Such dreams depict a swooping bird who now makes haste to feel his birth. The joy uplifts, a refrain becomes, a mix of earth and heaven song. Sing says the bird, flight with his wings. They now have touched what lies within. It opens far and separates, to feel the scar of what it takes. A man has thus to contemplate what woven dreams around create. S. Kamber