Where the eye catches the horizon fading,
it's then that the mind starts to dream.
After a day of looking at my own feet,
the sky is all I want to see.
Look at how easily the light of dusk is masked by the darkness, with a starry promise.
I am here, yet where is my will? My sight is waiting, but how long will it take to see the sky the way I had dreamt it would be?
Tonight the sky cannot hold the stars. Why should it in the first place? Now that it looks empty, did you notice what it is made of?
Why would you? When the emptiness creeps you out, to the sky it's liberating.
Maybe the sky is just like our minds, pretending to be a beating heart.
Tomorrow we shall see the sun, but why didn't the sky say no to that giant star?