The Sky

The sky, on which the universe has emptied its ink

Washed and dried by clouds and sun, won’t shrink

A promise made long ago, to remain open

Patiently waiting for our eyes and mind to reopen

The sky’s out of reach of shutters and doors

A weightless beauty, hanging over the stench of wars

A piercing blue eye, stars freeze at that sight

Swaddling arrivals, opening doors to those waiting to alight

The sky, a conscientious lender of a robust cloud

To the ignorant, who proudly wear that crown, it will enshroud

Wisdom and beauty, they are conjoined like twilight

To illuminate the truth which nothing can benight

The sky cannot rest, even when shorn of its signature blue

There are stars yet to make their debut

The sky adores a witness, who will also listen

And when we look up, it will pour life’s greatest lesson