Monday, October 29, 2012

even if the skies gets rough

The sky is a gift to those who look up.

I looked out my window Friday and saw a sunset.
It was a striking little point of light in the middle of the misty evening that had settled in.
The sky that morning had been red. Usually sunrises are so pink and tender. The sky that morning was red and raw. But it ended with something golden.

My love affair with the sky is as limitless as heavens. There is nothing more beautiful than watching the  clouds speed by on a fast wind, or nothing more awe-inspiring than a vast blue sky, pristine and clear. You can just lose yourself in the largeness.
Or the coziness of a purple-pink sunrise peeping over the edge of the horizon.

I love it when the sky is covered with a field of light, fluffy clouds, and looks a melancholy shade of periwinkle.
I love it when it looks grey and menacing, signaling that a giant storm is on it's way. I love it when it's radiant and clear, where you think you can see right through the air to the other side of the sky.

What's beautiful about the sky is that it's a manifestation of the temporal. A quick glance at the sky is enough to let you know roughly the time of day. Time is painted into the sky, but, at the same time, the sky is an ever-present reminder of the eternal. We are drawn up into the limitlessness of the sky.

Some people are privately connected. Even if it isn't always acknowledged, and instead often forgotten. Now and then the memories come back, but time passes and those moments are frozen in time, waiting for us to marvel at them again. And we will. Someday.
---From this lovely lady.

We are all looking at the same sky. And that's a very caim-y thought indeed.

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