I watch it now,
while it cries
with dark circles
beneath its eyes.
Sometimes, those tears are of joy,
making colors of rainbow,
neither as an illusion nor as decoy;
but for happiness and love to show.
Still, we fly trough its hights we sent fireworks and rockets to the stars
Sky's patience can't hold on forewer,
so it shouts on its manner. Whole
world listens then, this loud voice of thunder.

Sky breaks, and open wound of its
lights up our heads. This play of
violence doesn't always end in peace.
Its hands, with a brief of second can
burn houses and trees.

My bestfriend must be sky.. 50 complicated, full of love. With so much chaos, so much rage, its darkness and its lights, are described in my journal's page.

When we're born..
we come from the sky, and we go
back the second we die. From the
begining to an end, it is on what we all
depend.