If I could capture moonlight's beams,
paved with gold that catch love's dreams.
Then I would ride the lightning's shaft,
I'd speak like thunder, hope would craft.

If I, a scribe, wrote words like gems
I'd capture light with silver stems.
if I could grant all dreams come true
the purest love in cups I'd brew.

If only I could weave love's spell,
impart hope's flower, ring its bell,
if I could sew those worthwhile dreams,
on golden looms with shining seams.

But I'm not God; I cannot bring,
this boundless joy that makes hearts sing,
but this I know, my God is love,
and love descends on hope's sweet dove.