The Poet to the Heavenly Void

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
When I gaze into the morning sky
I think upon the days gone by
And those yet to come to pass
I think of the future, yes
What man cannot consider it
Though it remains futile yet?
What color is then the sky?
Which bears all colors by
The day and by the month
I caught a glimpse but once
Of the whole of a being
More than two eyes are seeing

Though blue, every colored sky
Is every-colored, by and by
You may see it is the rainbow
Whose fewer colors than we allow
Ourselves to consider then
Has an existence so very thin?

This blue, though plain the sky
Has a subtle richness by
Which we know it has a depth
Layers unrevealed yet
Opaque is its azure wall
Only through time may we see it all.

1 comment:

  1. “Glory be to God for dappled things,
    For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim.”

    -Gerard Hopkins


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