Is a hero. In his dreams
he glides across the rainforest canopy
where he rules the skies and the world
of leaf-shaped and perpetual twilight
and earth-scented incense.
When it rains here, gems tumble down
and golden pools open on the ground
like secret doorways.
*Sitting silent on a single log,
he is a hero. He has drawn the sum
of all your loneliness into his jeweled head.
He bears your secret fear
of being the last of your kind
left at the end of this world, or your own.
His throat has taken the stone that lodges
In your throat when you are finally certain
that the voice you long for
will never answer.
Most of all, in the enduring
of days and nights that meld together,
he knows, as we dread, that
when his last light blinks out,
none will mourn him or remember
that once when he lived
he was king of his world.
Written by Moira Ong