I sing and feed my soul. 

I dance and sing at my pleasure,

Turning and observing the stars in the sky.

Counting more than my seventeen years,

deep wonder fills my eyes.

I wonder if someone could count all those stars up so high. 

In thinking of such wonders, I look up late night.

What is it that I see up there, shining strong and bright?

Did someone put them up there, for all the world to see?

Or maybe they just fell there, or rose up from the sea.

God could have lowered all of them down slowly from the heights.

Quiet, white, and holy, each giving off its light.

Just like the stars in heaven there are things way up high.

They drift with graceful wonder

and soar up in the sky.

string wings help hold them up there, and pull them to the heights.

Just floating on the currents, clouds passing quickly by.

So just like those way up there, wings pulling them through life.

I too have something liek them that pulls me through my strife.

They pull me up when I get down and bring me to my feet;

my troubles all retreat.