And the Man in the rain Picked up his bag of secrets, And journeyed up the mountainside Far above the clouds; And nothing was ever heard from him aga… - Mike Oldfield

I was hoping
Could you be my inspiration
Whatever should become
In the candlelight?
I was dreaming
Was it my imagination?
Tomorrow never comes
In the candlelight

We took a place in the sun
To see just what had become
The warm wind blows constantly
Does the answer still blow?
Did you find your château
In that Mediterranean fantasy?

With a smile of joy and gladness, with a look of exultation, as of one who in a vision what is to be, but it is not, stood and waited Hiawatha. Toward the sun his hands were lifted both the palms spread out toward it and, between departed fingers, felt the sunshine on his features. Flecked with light his naked shoulders, as it falls and flecks an oak-tree through the rifted leaves and branches.