end of story

hi again all you beautiful sparks!

back from katie's

(i wrote this there)

nothing is autistic

(this is the end of my story that i was the mother of an autistic son.

my son was not autistic

autism doesn't exist

there is only love)

who dares?

to tear the petals off the blossom

that is born

who dares?

to paint it black

and teach us it is so

who dares?

to break its stem

so it will match our own

who dares?

to carve its heart

so it will fit the book

who dares?

to call it wrong

when there is nothing but brightness to see

who dares?

to close its ears

and call this singer deaf

who dares

to open his heart

as wide as it can go

and wider still

and wider still

and still you have more to go

who of us

would dare

to shed

our deepest inner skin

and feel the pain

we have pursued

by not seeing

we are dreaming

him?