Fair-haired, as in vulnerable boy. His innocent proximity. Outside of what encloses him. The village gathers and presumes. He turns to wilderness. Already has been loved. Now when each one flinches, what is thought next. Template, sadness, unexplained, to fill his lifetime of repeated questions. Softness unattainable, and hurt. His conversation, filaments of cut skin. Each music brings each entry back. Then how he notices the spokes upon, within a wheel. And speaks them in the quiet. How his stories fill the lamp light with untidy reverie. Perhaps he sleeps at night. Post-daylight, steady in the unfamiliar calm.
Endless walk toward lifetime, scuffs on shoes upon the road, toward generosity's kind eyes
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