An old, frail man, once proud and tall
Now sits on a bench, seeming to wait for it all.
People stare a gawk, for you see
He is different than you and me.
Or maybe it depends on which you decide to see.

The old man will sit there all day
Smiling and laughing and with much to say.
And if you ask him he will gladly answer. But be forewarned,
What he says has double horns.
For, one thing can mean the other and still be the same.

I have heard stories of this man
And decided to see him, already having my plan.
I climbed up onto the seat,
My legs swung with no beat,
The man took no notice and instead smiled at the wind.

Staring with him, I only saw what I always saw.
So, I patted him on the knee, as soft as a bird caw.
He turned to me then, as happy as can be
And I asked him, “What do you see?”
He pondered this for a moment, a second or two.

Then, he spoke, and it was a sure tune.
He asked me, “What do you see?” And pointed to the moon.
“The moon,” I told him, my mind racing.
The man laughed, “But the moon isn’t a thing.
For you see, when you see one thing, I see the other.”

The sun was then setting, casting a warm glow.
And the man told me, “You see that sun, hanging low?
When you see a sunset, I imagine a sunrise.
Trust me, for I do not tell lies.”
I continued to sit there, taking it all in.

I stared at the man once again, “What do you mean?”
He patted my knee and said, “Not everything it what it seems.
Do you see that streetlamp brightly glowing?
When you see a bulb, I see a fairy awakening.”
My mouth fell.

“A fairy! But Mama says they’re are not real.
She says they are just in my head, no matter what I feel.”
The man patted my knee again, listening to what I said.
“Of course, it is in your head,
But what does that have to do with it not being real?”

My mind wondered, never thinking of it that way.
The man smiled and said, “Now, what do you say?
Do you see that lake down there?
That is where mermaids taught me to swim, way down there”
I smiled with him, “Way down there, that’s impossible.”

“To some, yes, that’s true
But some of us still believe and have a clue.
See that moat of dust?
Only those with enough trust can see that it’s pixie dust.
That’s why it sparkles in the sunlight.”

“Do you see that bird flying high above,
He is no ordinary dove.
For you see, he taught me to fly
And, let me tell you, I didn’t just reach the sky.
I still like to visit him some days, joining him in the clouds.”

I left him there after that, the sun finally set.
But I will never forget
That time I sat with a man that forever believed.
I saw him again, but this time he’d changed.
This time, everyone believed him but no one believed themselves
Because there he was, flying higher than a cloud.
He had no wings and he was not falling to the ground,
But instead there was dust flying around him,
Or maybe it wasn’t.

You should see him someday, the Man That Still Believed.
You never know what you’ll see.
And if you can not find him, do not worry,
Because he lives in every town,
In every city.
Maybe he is everybody,
As long as they still believe.