man's own magic.

I confess to a sin of dreams
where freedom finds its will
like winds that fill sails
and take us where we'd might never be.

A sin of wishes, a luxury of imaginings
but a place where we weave
a tapestry of tomorrows
by strength of will, force majeure 
of the spirit; we rely upon nothing more
than breath and time, yet create
what has not been...a moment
in which to dwell, a spell
man's own magic.

Confess to a sin of excess
for I am blessed with you.