Beyond My Own Sky
Beyond my own sky, my familiar sky,
under the shifting clouded ceiling on nigh
is a land that stretches out into the deepest field,
the quiet, the sacred, and all what is revealed,
Up and up it goes until the end but not the end;
into a vastness that spawns a new sky again,
a new avenue that leads into the infinite,
past heaven and the planets so precisely knit.
I can see my own sky with its rolling clouds
and everything that the shifting current allows.
I can see one iota of the sky, the sky of mine
before it disappears into the land of the divine.
As I rise up through my sky that I know,
past my clouds and the earth below,
I can feel myself floating up into outer space,
not moving it seems, but at a fleeting pace.
I can’t feel the wind against my cheek
nor the ground below my weightless feet,
but I can see what I can’t see from the ground,
the ethereal sky so vast and so unbound.
My sky and I are one iota of the sky so vast,
and I a piece of dust from a meteor gone past,
but an onlooker who shrunk to a size so small,
a scholar in search of an answer to know it all.
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