Here are the words to the poem:
When you start out you see your ideas through a bright pure flame - its all wonder and light - the fire warms you
& you think "this is all wonderful...
But then you get older and the fire dies down and things happen - there are storms, plenty of bad weather, and the flame goes out
all that's left are embers... streams of smoke going nowhere...
everything you write, its all written under a waxing moon
and before you know it you are that lonely hill the moon sinks behind...
and then its all over
no more spark
no more happy ideas sailing on a breeze
just a dull sky full of clouds
and a cold breeze singing a thought in the valleys...
as dead as stone
with no dreams.
Dreams are haze in the wind
And I am too deep beneath the ground to care...
