Kite Strings

Somewhere there is a kid, and he just wants to go home
So I tell him ''Last time I check, it was all in the state of mind.''
So the kid forgot everything he owned, and moved to Mind,
were he learned to close his eyes, and play by ear.
Sometimes I can still hear him thinking,
about the seasons, and why they change,
but I don't have to tell him, because he is home.

And somewhere there is a baby, and she is crying,
and I am wondering what she has to cry about,
so I went out and looked into the eyes of every stranger I passed,
and I wondered why they avert their eyes,
and why it is not polite to stare.
But everyone was scared, and every one was someone, and no one, and everyone,
and I wondered why they quit crying,
and why they only cry in the dark.

And sometimes when I look into a mirror I wonder who I am,
and why I hear that kid thinking, and that baby crying,
and why I look into the eyes of strangers,
and most of all I wonder why I almost cried when I saw-
that mother gently sooth her crying daughter,
gently telling her she was loved, and gently telling her that she was okay,
I wonder why I almost cried,
but didn't.

So then I run my fingers through my hair,
and I pretend that they are kite strings,
and somewhere in this world there is a kite,
and I hope that one day I can find it,
and I hope that it is beautiful enough to silence that kids thinking,
and hush that baby's crying,
and make that mother smile,
and her daughter happy.
And I hope that it does all that is promised,
and whips in the wind,
goes higher than the trees.
I hope those strangers clap when they see it,
and are unafraid,
and maybe then they will look me iin the eye.