I’ve touched the sky, you know.
It feels like ice on the verge of melting,
strong and solid and drumming with life,
but lithe and loose and flowing with an
energy unspoken, a force not felt through
two feet on the ground.
I’ve tasted the sky, you know.
It tastes like unsweetened cream, freshly whipped,
light and fluffy and seasoned with stars,
but dark and heavy and looming with night,
an eve burdened by shadows unsavored
in the dishes of earth.
I’ve smelled the sky, you know.
It smells of a sea tossed across the world,
salty and ancient and familiar with time,
but summery and fresh and friendly to my
heart, like an old acquaintance long
lost across the land.
I’ve heard the sky, you know,
and it sings of what it’s seen;
of the the beastly and the beautiful,
the bygone and the brand-new-
I’ve heard it both repine and rejoice
in a voice as eternal as existence.
Stellular Scribe 