To transform a grimace into a sound
Sounds impossible, yet it is possible
To transform a vision into music,
To go outside an enslaved personality,
Tell me something less significant,
Something about our biology, for instance,
About what you hear while sitting under the tree,
About lonely lions in the prairies;
There is a moonlight note
In the Moonlight Sonata;
There is a thunder note
In an angry sky.
I see a new star on the horizon;
It's not the Morning Star;
It's a star without light.
This star without the light is the brightest
We dream and fight
With demons real and imagined;
We only live if we dream;
We grow from our dreams,
From where do simplicity and ease
In the movement of heavenly bodies derive?
It is precision.
Sun is never late to rise upon the Earth,
To find the hidden place
Longing freely to explore
Break obstacles and recognize
Invisible sparks emanating
You shall not stop or hesitate and sway
Until you pass through the forest,
And compare the beauty of the summer's day and night—
Until you arrive in your own Ithaca.
To hear never-heard sounds,
To see never-seen colors and shapes,
To try to understand the imperceptible
Power pervading the world;