One day a boy walked to the moon.
He never thought he could fly.
But he drifted towards the cieling of the stars.
And he loved the way the air drifted by in strands of spider's dreams.
uplifted by the night.
Devilish plight. 
"I wish I was a bird," the boy called into the night.
And he slept in a half-dream with the colors of crowds eating away his heart.
Nevermore a boy hurt by his thoughts.
alas to wallow,
   poison he may swallow.
Though he is now dreaming in a peaceful land far off,
free from the power and hate.
I am the boy who dreams free.
The End...
The end... until the next day...
When the stars called out his name for one last time...
And the people of wonder were in awe at the universe.
And all was good and left to be assumed.
And all slept in the dreaming state of tranquility.
The Real End as we know it.