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Description
They mocked him because
He laughed between each stanza
Between each stroke of a butterfly's wing
And they didn't get the joke.

They mocked him because
He couldn't read Latin
But the wisdom of eons past still danced in his eyes, shining deep blue while sunset bathed the world in dark fire.

Because sadness never bent his back or creased his face
Because they didn't know how to smile for their own sake
While for him, it came as naturally as an albatross spins on the ocean breeze.

And at night
Those gales would lift him away
Whipping light past his eyes, catching threads of matter and antimatter and weaving him a ladder to climb

Effortlessly; a maestro of the soul's music
An aviator, writing freedom in the sky on his soul's exultant flight.

Description
They mocked him because
He laughed between each stanza
Between each stroke of a butterfly's wing
And they didn't get the joke.

They mocked him because
He couldn't read Latin
But the wisdom of eons past still danced in his eyes, shining deep blue while sunset bathed the world in dark fire.

Because sadness never bent his back or creased his face
Because they didn't know how to smile for their own sake
While for him, it came as naturally as an albatross spins on the ocean breeze.

And at night
Those gales would lift him away
Whipping light past his eyes, catching threads of matter and antimatter and weaving him a ladder to climb

Effortlessly; a maestro of the soul's music
An aviator, writing freedom in the sky on his soul's exultant flight.