In cyberspace, there lived two thieves.
They walked tightropes of hope and belief.
One stole light; the other stole shadows.
They fed on whatever dreams they could find.
(To be honest, neither really existed.
Each was simply a thought in the other's mind.)
The world in their eyes is a fragile place.
The moon in their eyes unendingly strobes
with the aura of seashells and snowmen in june.
A carnival lives in every room, but in every closet God's policemen hide. It rains stained glass and they bleed inside. The only way they've found to survive is to usurp tiny pieces of magic
from children's eyes on a summer night.
I would never say what they do is right.
But if they walk through your dreams some night, hoaxes and hope for their skin and bone,
mouths full of opium and ocean foam, achingto wake up and be made real--
remember how it felt before you were born.
Then you will understand why they steal.
