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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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