Tag Archives: sky

Language of the Dark Skies

Speaking in universal words,
Vague enough that I don’t understand,
Your mysterious tongue, I’ve never heard,
Foretelling of stars and moons in herds.

You, lingering in the dark air of loud music
Blasting in your eyes, colliding with your soul,
Any other would get a headache,
But you would always withstand it all,

You understand it all,
Banging your head to the incoherence,
Gibberish to us, you, it enthralls,
Your mind, a menace.

Dangerous tales of wispy light,
Black magic, black hearts, hard times,
Those dark skies almost tore down your might,
But there is infinity in you, universes of rhyme,

Nothing can tear down your rhythm,
Stagger your unhesitating cadence,
Mental strength I can’t even start to fathom,
You, make the dark stars repent.

Swing

A few weeks ago, swinging high on a swing in the park, grasping the metal chains warmed by the sun, I looked towards the sky like I always do when I’m swinging. Swing forward, closer to the sky, swing back, further. Lean back, feet to the air, kicking the clouds. Let go of the chains for a while, reach for the sky. Touch its wondrous, soft blue that only a good day can bring about. Then fall back for a while and propel forward again.

It is only on the swing that I have the few positive philosophical musings of my life. It is on the swing I feel as if anything is possible and that maybe if we just keep swinging–keep moving forward, no matter how many times we are kicked back–we can achieve anything.

As I touched the blue sky with the tip of my fingers, I felt like I could grasp anything if I could touch the sky. The sky, however, is not the limit. With the breeze passing over my face, disheveling my hair, I knew I could reach as high as I wanted, even if the place I’m aiming for is beyond the sky–not in my world–because I’ll make it part of my world eventually: Whatever position I’m vying for, whatever career I am aiming for, I can make it one day even if it isn’t part of my world, life, yet.

Then, I got off the swing, with that sort of uplifting feeling warming me–as the sun warmed the black swing–and tripped on the steps. Laughing at myself, I got back to worrying and stressing out about my life and where I’m going with it.

Such is the life of a realist that insists on being a romantic.