The Sky: A Canvas of Dreams and Whispers

The Sky: A Canvas of Dreams and Whispers

Look up, dear friend, just tilt your head,

Beyond the roofs, where clouds are spread.

A ceiling vast, yet light as breath—

The sky holds stories we forget.

By day it wears a robe of blue,

With cotton dreams that float on through.

It watches us with quiet grace,

Yet never once invades our space.

At dusk it paints in orange fire,

A masterpiece that won’t expire.

No artist’s brush, no poet's pen,

Could frame its magic time again.

At night it shifts to midnight's gown,

Adorned with stars from sky to town.

It listens to our fears and screams,

And calms us down with silver beams.

The sky, it speaks but not in words—

Its silence louder than the birds.

It shows us change, from rain to sun,

That nothing still has ever won.

When thunder rolls and lightning strikes,

It teaches us about our likes.

That peace is sweet, but storms are strong,

And every mess still moves along.

Sometimes I lie on grass and stare,

And think of all who’ve breathed this air.

The sky, it connects you and me—

And even those we’ll never see.

It sees the tears we never show,

The joy we guard, the truths we know.

Yet never judges, never shouts,

Just shifts and waits as time runs out.

I wonder if the sky gets tired

Of holding wishes we've desired.

Of watching people chase and race,

And never stop to see its face.

So next time life feels way too wide,

And chaos brews deep down inside—

Just look above, don’t even try,

The answers rest... up in the sky.