Shaman

I am outside the mystery, the boy thinks,
his eyes frozen on the lilac cloud

that hovers above him, the backcloth apricot sky
soundless. The cloud's wings beat low,

tousling his hair, wetting his eyes,
opening his mouth. After it has melted

in rain, in thunder, this cloud, the boy
will find it again, veined and marbled on his tongue.

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