I wish not upon shooting stars
But dandelions born of light
To scatter myself far and wide
As they do their heads of white;
For my seeds of thought to be carried
Away on wispy wings
And come to rest in strange lands
Amongst unfamiliar things
That I may know of all that lies
Beyond my reach, beyond my mind
Let me not my wandering eyes
Within these wired borders confine
Let me dance with the windy skies
Let me soar, let me roam
Let me know ditzy madness
Before the earth bids me home.