Feeling empty of thought, I take my evening coffee and walk to my little nook window to stare into the sky, my favorite place.
Morning, day, evening and night meld together as one seemingly endless existence; yet I am reassured of its pulsing life; its breath; it’s glorious desire to be, through my private viewing, each end of day.
I am lost in its beauty; the expanse of skies above. It is achingly beautiful and it pains me to not be a part of it.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.
I feel abandoned and long to be, where I feel is home; as a colourful light in flow.
The sky is a blaze in light that catches my breath.
I am ashamed to even try to use mere words to describe, but I will try, so not to be alone in this moment.
My sight is first drawn to just above the tree line.
Burning shades of pink that are both brilliant yet as soft as cotton, blend seamlessly with delicious shades of orange.
Shades of orange, ranging from the deepest, most succulent, you can almost taste the sweetness, to hot, blazing smokey fires.
Just below this kalidoscope of colour is a stoic, strong wavy band of indigo blue. It appears to hold up and offer support to the lightness and carefree fun going on just above it.
It devastates me in its gentle beauty and strength.
Far up, above the panorama, in a fade of blue I see three small puffs of cloud. They appear to be dancing above it all. They are free. We fly with the birds they laugh and call out. And indeed, they do. A few silent, soaring hawks pass by; royalty of above.
I am suffocated by my ineptitude at this moment.
I feel such a need to breathe this all in; to breathe the beauty and miracle of it all into my very body, into each and every cell.
The actual knowing that it isn’t possible, shatters me.
I am filled with such awe and gratitude yet crushed with a sense of not being able to capture and hold onto this beauty.
I could never capture this magnitude of glory in a painting.
A million photographs could never do this justice.
Now, no longer in the grip of the fading glow, I know it was never meant to be held on to. Never meant to be preserved.
It was simply meant to be shared.
I actually recorded the bones of this on audio a few weeks ago while having a meloncholic moment, staring out at the sky. Thanks to dVerse and all of you here, I’m finding my voice in poetry that I didn’t know I still really had. I’m enjoying this!
The challenge. Incorporate below,
“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.”
— Wisława Szymborska, “Possibilities”
I feel it went well with the bones of what I felt. (I’m sorry if it is over the word count? I have no idea how to check that. I can’t find that anywhere 🤔)
Much love and gratitude to you all 💚