There is only one boy
And he is not lost
He lives at the top of the stairs
Beyond a closed door
Monsters chalked on heavy gloss
Daring others to come closer
To get beyond the dire warnings
About what might it mean for him
To come out and play.
Ecstatically blinded
He dances amongst his own colours
Shards of light leaking through cracks
Raising dust in sweet liberty
Each footfall a statement of presence
A movement that trusts in blood and bone and fire
And created things
Like himself.