It was a mild evening

A boy sat in silence

The rushing fountain embraced his thoughts,

fastened his mind to the stone below

The mist touched his face,

its caress as soft a a lover

Reflections of light gleamed in his eyes

He could see a distant hope

Far away, but attainable

He was a hero, one nobody knew

Hidden behind a film of lies, he stayed

He saw a land of exression in those reflections

Close enough to touch, not meant to be held

He loved the  light, but remained in the shadow

For he was afraid of what he might do.