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She washes her hands in egg whites,
picking out stray shell pieces.
Sitting as still as the morning- quiet,
while the kettle sets itself a-steaming.
She hears that same Chinese flute
drifting down the hallway,
slipping universal truths
under each hotel room doorway.
She looks to the rain in the hills
like sorrowful sailor's wife;
a day could be time for a dream fulfilled
or the time that the rivers run dry.
sara, brought by a morning

Floating away in my dreams
I find myself flying
so real it seems
feel the wind on my face
it feels so free
floating in the air
without a care
Giovanna Marie, Floating Away In Dreams

Sailing takes me away to where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free
Christopher Cross, Sailing

Benedictus - The Pillars of Creation , Karl Jenkins