If there be but one shooting star

Streaking across the velvet sky at dusk

And I try to pluck it out for you

Stop me, Chris, for that one star is for all to enjoy

If there be one pink lotus amidst a thousand whites

Blossoming fully under moonlit sky

And I moved to scoop it up for you

Stop me, Chris, for one flower left there, will grow manifold

If there be one songbird singing in the canopies

A song of detailed haunting beauty

And I tried caging it for you

Stop me, Chris, for natural melodies are meant to be freely sung

If there be one painting left unfinished in the world

Art of unblemished perfection and object of gracious envy

And I brought a brush to put the full broad strokes

Stop me, Chris, somethings are best left unending

Friday, May 11th 2007