An emotional wind,
just to clear the daily fields,
to ask a moment after,
with childish tenderness.

They have a soul
like an old building,
with a million windows,
and one locked door.

They are so different,
more than a straight line.
They save the world,
seeing, feeling, not less.

Not a doctoral degree,
no frame that fits.
Perhaps don’t read the words,
they think beyond two and one.

They burn the dinner,
tangled in their inner world.
Flickering light, voice—
A scratch of structure is too much.

States of agitation,
flow of information,
and the beautiful creatures,
make sense without logic.

They give to this dimension
more than they’ll ever know.
Paradox in the crowd,
unclassified,
a blessing for society,
yet invisible.