the book of counted sorrows.

To see what we have never seen,
to be what we have never been,
to shed the chyrisalis and fly
depart the earth, kiss the sky,
to be reborn or something new:
Is this a dream or is it true?

Can our future be clearly shorn
from a life to which we're born?
Is each of us a creature free-
or trapped at birth by destiny?
Pity those who believe the latter.
Without freedom, nothing matters.

In the real world
as in dreams,
nothing is quite
what it seems.