Here's To Opening And Upward... And To

Who Knows If The Moon's A Balloon,coming Out Of A Keen City In The Sky--filled With Pretty People? ( And If You And I Should Get Into It,if They Should Take Me And Take You Into Their Balloon, Why Then We'd Go Up Higher With All The Pretty People Than Houses And Steeples And Clouds: Go Sailing Away And Away Sailing Into A Keen City Which Nobody's Ever Visited,where Always It's Spring)and Everyone's In Love And Flowers Pick Themselves

All Which Isn't Singing Is Mere Talking... And All Talking's To Oneself Alone But The Very Song Of (as Mountains Feel And Lovers) Singing Is Silence.

Your Head Is A Living Forest Full Of Songbirds.

The Three Saddest Things Are The Ill Wanting To Be Well, The Poor Wanting To Be Rich, And The Constant Traveler Saying 'anywhere But Here'.

Time Is A Tree (this Life One Leaf) But Love Is The Sky And I Am For You Just So Long And Long Enough