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They say the stars are grave markers

And the movement of the sun is a flare in slow motion
They say the heart is a spider in a web of blood
And the brain is a coral reef
They say shadows of strangers never lie next to each other
And always dissolve in the morning
They say the moon will break into pieces
And fall into the ocean
They say not to believe the wind carries our thoughts around
Yet for the boy, earth is the blue stone in his hand
He can fly through pink thunder and dance in blueberry barrens
He says rivers are gliding mirrors carrying him up and down stream
To places where the passing world is not what they say,
But what he dreams

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