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