When he told them he’s still the boy who chased a maverick dream riding on the wings of a wild wind across the galaxies, scooping diamond dust from the milky ways to mix enchanting reds to colour anew the rays of the morning sun – they didn’t believe him.
When he told them he’s still the boy who waded through the dark mist of a coal-black sky searching for the sparkle of the glittery stars to brighten the glow of the fireflies in his tree house - they didn’t believe him.
When he told them he’s beyond the tentacles of change, scripted in immortality - they laughed at him.