In the dying of the light,
a new star shines tonight.
An empty vessel no more—
I’m filled with optimistic delight.

This child inside a man-like frame
hurts within from phantom pain.
He reaches out and reaches in,
starts to stop,
then stops to begin.

Tears in my eyes, my emotions dry.
Please tell me—how do I fix my guy?
A complex equation of segregation,
a sinkhole built on exaggeration.

A beautiful mind, and in essence kind,
misunderstood as devil’s work.
A flat tyre on a race car,
broken wings that won’t fly far.

So we take him in,
hold and warm his soul,
give him love,
and nourish his bowl.

We clear away the fog
at the launchpad of his life,
watching the countdown,
hearing rockets ignite.

Godspeed, fella.

Life is
a one-way ticket.