Your dreams, too wild, tell to me,
Ye who dare so zealously
For lofty ideas, unreachable goals,
Longing feverishly from your unquenchable souls.
Intense desires like wild fire,
Passionate yearnings that never tire.
Like springtime flowers in jubilant blooming,
Those brilliant notions ever illuming,
Share with me, fools and rabble rousers,
Mischief makers and thought carousers,
Those things the world does call absurd.
Let us all become bestirred.
© Erick Pratt