Celestial Sphere.

The skies always get to me. Their colours and shapes. Giant, puffy clouds of white or grey. I write this knowing full well that you, nor anyone else will understand what they mean to me. I will try to explain.In Chicago the heavens are big. They are more colossal than any world I have ever seen. In D.C. they are meager and clustered with large, over-sized buildings. The firmament of the Dakotas are safe. When I am absent from them they take on a whole new meaning, they suddenly become even more alluring and beautiful. Encompassing and whole. Perfect.Complete. Home.
I find myself taken back as I roll down gravel roads and gaze at the beauty of golden wheat and fresh cut bales of hay, but I find myself swallowed and eaten by the beauty of the skies. I want to create more life in the wild blue yonder, construct new roots and pictures with new faces and prettier pieces from the vault of heaven. I want to see more. So much more.

No comments:

Post a Comment