Indian Boy

I listen to your heartbeat slow as you dream on.

I do not speak, never do I speak. Early I found that silence, and if I did find my voice, would you even hear me? Instead I sit by your side, as I ever have, and plead, silently.

As I have grown, I've seen you are a whimsical child, selfish in desire, straying from your true path.

Whose parent are you? You shun responsibilities, though you chide _him_ about neglecting them with fierce spirit. The seasons are withering without you, please listen as I do. You cannot dance in revels forever.

When you wish it, I see you as who you can be. You, who have been everything to me: nurturer, protector, kindness itself, why will you sleep on; petty in your teasing of _him_.

I'll leave you to slumber now, but think on this; did you hear my heart beat also? I will go find my place among the flowers and your followers.

I see _him_, slipping close, bent on mischief. I should turn and speak, but I don't; maybe you both will learn from this. Maybe the music will wake you.