Eleven thousand years weighted heavy on his soul
The ancestor spirits keeping touch with the boy
As a protector, a stronger, of a world so cold
An angel by all rights, hidden far from his home
A runaway by nature, wanting to see better things
Paradise forever wasn't among his list of dreams
Wings open, eyes wide, casting out across the Earth
Hands would touch soil of bases, second, first
Each new sight, discovery of a different life
Imagining how he'd nurture, or maybe even fight
A strong athlete, a great warrior, or a guiding light
No possibility could escape his grasp, his sight
The stories in these books and movies brought him hope
Maybe one day, he could aspire to become a greater proof
That his life is a journey, a story to be told
But for now, he'll cradle fables deep inside his room