He was crazy, of course
From the first she must have known it
But still she went on with him
And he never once had shown it

She took him off the street
And she dried his tears of grievin'
She listened to his visions
She believed in his believin'

O, he was the sun
Burning bright and brittle and
She was the moon
Shining back his light a little

He was a shooting star
She was softer and more slowly
He could not make things possible
But she could make them holy

                     Holy!

             - Harry Chapin
             " Shooting Star"