He spoke a language no one knew,
Seeing things in a different way and at a different pace,
Why do we judge what we cannot see?
We form preconceived notions about that which we cannot touch.
How do we make a place for that which we cannot fathom?
They say he is dumb.
They say he is slow.
Because he does not think like we are taught to,
Does not perform to the programming of man,
His position is such that society will not recognize him outside of their pre-established placement of him.
He sits in the sand box all alone.
Some say he will never leave.
For as he plays he sees nothing,
Hears no one,
Senses blurred by that which he observes.
Focused and attentive,
Gentle and precise,
His movement is honed to the task at hand,
But to them he will never be man.
They pity his existence for it does not fit with theirs,
But I say watch him as he works in his own way and of his own world
His concentration exists outside of himself
Apart from society,
He’s found a place where there is no ego,
Awareness of self is illusive
Still they pity him for he can never be whole,
Without considering what makes him so,
He will never know the grace of the social,
His work is more cerebral,
The warmth of companionship,
For fulfillment to him comes from another source
This is not blessing but neither is it curse
He cannot learn from us and we will not learn from him,
Two different spectrums of the lives we cannot live.