You can never have too much sky . You can fall asleep and wake up drunk on sky, and sky can keep you safe when you are sad. Here there is too much sadness and not enough sky. Butterflies too are few and so are flowers and most things that are beautiful. Still, we take what we can get and make the best of it.
I've always thought of the sky as, like, an open canvas. When I was a kid and I looked at the sky, I always remember being able to daydream, just looking at the sky, being creative, being able to design things. What would happen if we had no sky? Where would we be? Well, obviously, scientifically, without an atmosphere, we'd all be dead.
There are landscapes in which we feel above us not sky but space. Something larger, deeper than sky is sensed, is seen, although in such settings the sky itself is invariably immense. There is a place between the cerebrum and the stars where sky stops and space commences, and should we find ourselves on a particular prairie or mountaintop at a particular hour, our relationship with sky thins and loosens while our connection to space becomes solid as bone.
A star falls from the sky and into your hands. Then it seeps through your veins and swims inside your blood and becomes every part of you. And then you have to put it back into the sky. And it's the most painful thing you'll ever have to do and that you've ever done. But what's yours is yours. Whether it's up in the sky or here in your hands. And one day, it'll fall from the sky and hit you in the head real hard and that time, you won't have to put it back in the sky again.
C. JoyBell C.
On our way back to her house, I didn't look at the city lights any longer. I looked into the sky and felt as if the moon was following us. When I was a child, my grandmother told me that the sky speaks to those who look and listen to it. She said, 'In the sky there are always answers and explanations for everything: every pain, every suffering, joy, and confusion.' That night I wanted the sky to talk to me.
Look at your feet. You are standing in the sky. When we think of the sky, we tend to look up, but the sky actually begins at the earth. We walk through it, yell into it, rake leaves, wash the dog, and drive cars in it. We breathe it deep within us. With every breath, we inhale millions of molecules of sky, heat them briefly, and then exhale them back into the world.
The light of the sun is the manifestation of the clarity of the sky; and the sky is the basic condition necessary for the manifestation of the sun's light. So, too, in the sky two, three, four, or any number of suns could arise; but the sky always remains indivisibly one sky. Similarly, every individual's state of presence is unique and distinct, but the void nature of the individual is universal, and common to all beings.
TAKE CARE, IT'S SUCH A LONELY SKY, THEY'LL TRAP YOUR WINGS MY LOVE AND HOLD YOUR FLIGHT, THEY'LL BUILD A CAGE AND STEAL YOUR ONLY SKY, FLY AWAY, FLY TO ME, FLY WHEN THE WIND IS HIGH, I'M SAILING BESIDE YOU IN YOUR LONELY SKY, FLY AWAY, FLY TO ME, AND IF YOU NEED MY LOVE, I'M SAILING BESIDE YOU IN YOUR LONELY SKY... I'LL COME IN WITH THE DAWN, I'M SAILING BESIDE YOU IN YOUR LONELY SKY, ON THE WINGS OF THE MORN, I'M SAILING BESIDE YOU IN YOUR LONELY SKY, ABOVE THE WORLD WE'LL BE FLYING, I'M SAILING BESIDE YOU IN YOUR LONELY SKY...
I let my head fall back, and I gazed into the Eternal Blue Sky. It was morning. Some of the sky was yellow, some the softest blue. One small cloud scuttled along. Strange how everything below can be such death and chaos and pain while above the sky is peace, sweet blue gentleness. I heard a shaman say once, the Ancestors want our souls to be like the blue sky.
Transparency has existed ever since there has been a man and the sky above him. For the past ten thousand years every new day has offered a simple experience with its own spectacle; from a day sky into the sky at night; from oneself into the vast universe. Imagine creating the House of Tears where the heart can be educated in the ways of the sky; transcending itself. Transparency is its step, door and fireplace. Becoming one with it, is its windows.
At times the whole sky was ringed in shooting points and puckers of light gathering and falling, pulsing, fading, rhythmical as breathing. All of a piece. As if the sky were a pattern of nerves and our thought and memories traveled across it. As if the sky were one gigantic memory for us all.
Touch your inner space, which is nothingness, as silent and empty as the sky; it is your inner sky. Once you settle down in your inner sky, you have come home, and a great maturity arises in your actions, in your behavior. Then whatever you do has grace in it. Then whatever you do is a poetry in itself. You live poetry; your walking becomes dancing, your silence becomes music.
The bluebells made such a pool that the earth had become like water, and all the trees and bushes seemed to have grown out of the water. And the sky above seemed to have fallen down on to the earth floor; and I didn't know if the sky was the earth or the earth was water. I had been turned upside down. I had to hold the rock with my fingernails to stop me falling into the sky of the earth or the water of the sky. But I couldn't hold on.
Before you came, things were as they should be: the sky was the dead-end of sight, the road was just a road, wine merely wine. Now everything is like my heart, a color at the edge of blood: the grey of your absence, the color of poison, of thorns, the gold when we meet, the season ablaze, the yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames, and the black when you cover the earth with the coal of dead fires. And the sky, the road, the glass of wine? The sky is a shirt wet with tears, the road a vein about to break, and the glass of wine a mirror in which the sky, the road, the world keep changing. Don't leave now that you're here- Stay. So the world may become like itself again: so the sky may be the sky, the road a road, and the glass of wine not a mirror, just a glass of wine.
Faiz Ahmad Faiz
A building is akin to dogma; it is insolent, like dogma. Whether or no it is permanent, it claims permanence, like a dogma. People ask why we have no typical architecture of the modern world, like impressionism in painting. Surely it is obviously because we have not enough dogmas; we cannot bear to see anything in the sky that is solid and enduring, anything in the sky that does not change like the clouds of the sky.
Gilbert K. Chesterton
They gathered after mass, sang hymns and read. Everyone had grown even more serene; beneath the sisters' kerchiefs it was as if there were no faces. When they met Daryushka - it was as if they bowed down lower. She was walking in the Spirit. Daryushka was entirely serene. She was thinking of nothing, had turned within herself, peering inside; and inside her all was smiling ever so gently. After the storm clear days came, frosty, crackling, clear days. Snow and sky, snow and sky, and the sky was even brighter, whiter, from the snow - and the snow sparkled with blue fires from the sky. Daryushka went down to the river with buckets, to the ice-hole. She went down to the landing alone... Snow, and sky, and brilliance... ("He Has Descended")
We're at 103,000 feet. Looking out over a very beautiful, beautiful world . . . a hostile sky. As you look up the sky looks beautiful but hostile. As you sit here you realize that Man will never conquer space. He will learn to live with it, but he will never conquer it. Can see for over 400 miles. Beneath me I can see the clouds. . . . They are beautiful . . . looking through my mirror the sky is absolutely black. Void of anything. . . . I can see the beautiful blue of the sky and above that it goes into a deep, deep, dark, indescribable blue which no artist can ever duplicate. It's fantastic.
The sky was thick with TV. If you wore special glasses you could see them spinning through the sky among the bats and homing birds-blondes, wars, famines, football, food shows, coups d'etat, hairstyles stiff with hair spray. Designer pectorals. Gliding towards Ayemenem like skydivers. Making patterns in the sky. Wheels. Windmills. Flowers blooming and unblooming.
The digital sunset always looks better than the real thing, always. Because a sunset generated by the basic package of yellow sun and blue sky is unreliable. Today it may be stunning, hypnotic. Tomorrow it may be lifeless and dull, a white sky scorched with yellow. Tomorrow the sky will be velvet.
Will Christopher Baer
A sombrero fell out of the sky and landed on the main street of town in front of the mayor, his cousin, and a person out of work. The day was scrubbed clean by the desert air. The sky was blue. It was the blue of human eyes, waiting for something to happen. There was no reason for a sombrero to fall out of the sky. No airplane or helicopter was passing overhead and it was not a religious holiday.
I don't have a diary, I don't write things into a diary. I imprint myself into the sky and when the sunlight shines brightly, I can stand under the sun's rays and everything I have imprinted of myself into the sky, I will begin to see again, feel again, remember. And when the wind begins to blow, it blows the details over my face, and I remember everything I left in the sky and see new things being born. I am unwritten.
C. JoyBell C.
And in it all, the sensation of shaking my fists at the sky, shaking my fists high up to the sky, because that is what we do when someone dies too early, too beautiful, too undervalued by the world, or sometimes just at all - we shake our fists at the big, beautiful, indifferent sky, and the anger is righteous and strong and helpless and huge. I shook and I shook, and I put all of it into the dress.
The world stands out on either side No wider than the heart is wide; Above the world is stretched the sky, No higher than the soul is high. The heart can push the sea and land Farther away on either hand; The soul can split the sky in two, And let the face of God shine through. But East and West will pinch the heart That can not keep them pushed apart; And he whose soul is flat""the sky Will cave in on him by and by.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Years ago, when I was working on my master's thesis, I went to New York for a semester as an exchange student. What struck me most was the sky. On that side of the world, so far away from the North Pole, the sky is flat and gray, a one-dimensional universe. Here, the sky is arched, and there's almost no pollution. In spring and fall the sky is dark blue or violet, and sunsets last for hours. The sun turns into a dim orange ball that transforms clouds into silver-rimmed red and violet towers. In winter, twenty-four hours a day, uncountable stars outline the vaulted ceiling of the great cathedral we live in. Finnish skies are the reason I believe in God.
COME TOUCH ME LIKE I?M AN ORDINARY MAN, HAVE A LOOK IN MY EYES UNDERNEATH MY SKIN THERE IS VIOLENCE, GOT A GUN IN ITS HAND READY TO MAKE SENSE OF ANYONE ANYTHING BLACK HOLES LIVING IN THE SIDE OF YOUR FACE RAZOR WIRE SPINNING AROUND YOUR BLISTERING SKY, BLISTERING SKY BULLETS ARE THE BEAUTY OF THE BLISTERING SKY BULLETS ARE THE BEAUTY AND I DON?T KNOW WHY BULLETS ARE THE BEAUTY OF THE BLISTERING SKY BULLETS ARE THE BEAUTY AND I DON?T KNOW WHY PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY PERSONAL RESPONSE INSANITY CONFINE ME LET ME BE THE LESSER OF A BEAUTIFUL MAN WITHOUT THE BLOOD ON HIS HANDS COME AND MAKE ME A MARTYR COME AND BREAK MY FEELING WITH YOUR VIOLENCE WITH THE GUN TO MY HEAD READY TO TAKE OUT ANYONE ANYWHERE BLACK HOLES LIVING IN THE SIDE OF YOUR FACE RAZOR WIRE SPINNING AROUND YOUR HEART BLISTERING SKY BLISTERING SKY BULLETS ARE THE BEAUTY OF THE BLISTERING SKY BULLETS ARE THE BEAUTY AND I DON?T KNOW WHY BULLETS ARE THE BEAUTY OF THE BLISTERING SKY BULLETS ARE THE BEAUTY AND I DON?T KNOW WHY PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY PERSONAL RESPONSE INSANITY
She sat down on one of her grandmother's uncomfortable armchairs, and the cat sprang up into her lap and made itself comfortable. The light that came through the picture window was daylight, real golden late-afternoon daylight, not a white mist light. The sky was a robin's-egg blue, and Coraline could see trees and, beyond the trees, green hills, which faded on the horizon into purples and grays. The sky had never seemed so sky, the world had never seemed so world ... Nothing, she thought, had ever been so interesting.
Until now, I've never been able to see while I fly, and I feel a dizzying lightness as I look out at the land below us. Is this what I've missed? The stars have come to the earth, and the ocean has turned over the ground; dark waves meet the sky. They are unmoving, barely visible but for the light of the sun rising behind them. Mountains, I realize. That's what the ocean is. Those waves are peaks. The stars are lights in houses and on streets. The earth reflects the sky and the sky meets the earth and, every now and then, if we're lucky, we have a moment to see how small we are.
Thinking of you where ever you are- We pray for our sorrows to end and hope that our hearts will blend now I will step forward to realize this wish- And who knows starting a new journey may not be so hard or maybe it's already begun- There are many worlds but they share the same sky one sky one destiny-
A storm was coming; you could feel it in the air, chill wind was cutting through the thickest coat and there was a faint wetness in the air that was touching the skin if turned towards the storm. Mark looked at the sky above the ocean. The sky was getting darker it no longer felt like midday, the storm moved the clock forward and it felt more like the beginnings of sunset. With lightening flashes every few minutes, the sky would light up all of a sudden. It was magnificent, breathtaking and even life taking.
Austin V. Songer
She smiled. She was happy, yet sad. Life had never been more bittersweet. She looked at the sunset. The pink sky was sinking into the deep blue ocean. It was almost as if the sky knew it was making a mistake, digging its own grave. But for a moment there, at the very moment before diving into the darkness of the sea, on the golden horizon, the sky shone brighter than it ever had. It was glorious in its five seconds of fame. It was serendipitously happy, like all its life had led to that moment. And then it died into the sea, content.
Thinking of you, wherever you are We pray for our sorrows to end, and hope that our hearts will blend. Now I will step forward to realize this wish. And who knows, starting a new journey may not be so hard Or maybe it has already begun. There are many worlds. but they share the same sky one sky, one destiny. Kairi
The sky in Seattle is so low, it felt like God had lowered a silk parachute over us. Every feeling I ever knew was up in that sky. Twinkling joyous sunlight; airy, giggle cloud wisps; blinding columns of sun. Orbs of gold, pink. flesh, utterly cheesy in their luminosity. Gigantic puffly clouds, welcoming, forgiving, repeating infinitely across the horizon as if between mirrors; and slices of rain, pounding wet misery in the distance now, but soon on us, and in another part of the sky, a black stain, rainless.
The world is constructed of pairs. The sky overhead and the depths of the earth. Light and dark. It originates from either end, and then wanders the gap between... The land belongs to the sky, starting at the horizon. The sea would appear to be in between, but there is no sea without a bottom. As it is above the earth, it is within the sky's domain. Those which have life all arrive beneath the earth upon dying. Those which cannot be in the light all descend beneath the earth, all equal. Evil avoids light. Below the earth is darkness. Am I am its god.