Did the God's weep when they fed your body to the ocean

little boy, with your paper-kite wings
stake your heart into the earth and bind yourself
to the promise of your father’s faith

(too late; the sun is lush and warm
 brushing kisses all across your skin
 drawing your fragile heart towards the heavens
 and you are lost)

little boy, with your arms spread wide
you cannot speak for the seething of your spirit;
the churning darkness of the deep, deep sea. 

(too late; your eyes are brimming
with the light of a thousand galaxies
you raise you hands to meet the sky 
and you are blinded.