Apocalypse Painting

I shall take up my paintbrush

and tint the sky red.

Red like emotions of fear and

dread.

Red like a heart ripping in pain.

Red like a ruby, small and plain.

Why then is the sky red?

Why does it glow?

The answer is simple, for white,

red must flow.

Emotions run deep before forgiveness

is granted.

Before morning can dawn, first comes

the sadness.

Deep in a pit, a gem can be found.

It takes a deep breath to produce sound.

So paint the sky red, let it bleed down the page.

For after destruction, dawns a new age.

The Sky and I

The sky is grey and morose but void of

clouds. Casting a shadow on everything,

they lose the game, they forget their lines.

And the air seems thick, pressing, strangling,

and no clouds to relieve it. And the sky

trembles in pain as the world turns upside down,

As if everyone should freeze until the

sky recovers. And it will recover, it always recovers.

Question it and be ignored, ignore it and

be despised. There’s never a right way to

deal with the sky. Let it turn yellow-

grey, let the wind blow away.

The sky and I, we have an ongoing alliance.

With fury the wind races over a bare horizon.

Dust flies upwards, spins, freezes momentarily,

then plummets back to earth.

And the sky must step back and re-assess the

situation: the whirling, terrifying satisfaction that

grows greater by the mile. Was the purpose

ever justified? But the wind can sometimes stop the rain.

The sky and I, we have an ongoing alliance.

As everything slows itself to a careful pat-pat

on the roof, the moon gains control of the sky.

A careful shimmer on the river, the sky and

the astrals sigh, wiping the last bit of heat

from the sidewalk. And ghostly figures emerge

laughing, crying, crawling into a hole replaying

the footsteps tread not long ago. Some windows

are open, staring, fixed on the ethereal procession.

Others flutter and click closed immediately

unconscious of yesterday’s perils. And the sky smiles on

the peaceful earth, peaceful for some and for

others worse, already forgetting the day.

The sky and I, we have an ongoing alliance.

The sky laughs in rosy hues as a new day dawns

over an infinite expanse. Colorful wings fill the air

and the sky has never looked better.

Hope flies high and dreams are within reach

as perfect white clouds become rainbows.

Pride and courage well up like a fountain

dispersing droplets of water in the air.

The morning is fresh, cleared by a day of

disaster and the sky has never looked better.

With a deep breath and a purposeful step,

the sky sets out on today’s journey

and again and again for all eternity.

The sky and I, we have an ongoing alliance.