take me apart

These days,
the autumn sky is a
particular kind of
bright blue against
flaming oranges and yellows
of the setting sun trees,
and it reaches forever,
illimitably upwards,
beyond the scope of my
imagination until I wonder
if actually this ceiling
was painted by an ethereal
michaelangelo once upon a time, and
like the leaves whose lives end
in a glorious burst of color,
perhaps the sky
too becomes
more brilliant
with each passing, dying day.
"There's always the sky,"
sings Dar in my ear, "let it hear what you're saying --
for all that you are saying."
Yes, indeed.
How many times
have i turned
to no one in particular
to express an
ineffable something,
only to discover
that the sky was actually listening,
glistening in whatever
hazy blue, cloudy white, graying storm, diamond-studded, blackish blue, magnificent depth mood it was in
in that particular season
at that particular time?
And how many times
have I stretched my neck
upward and backward
to breathe it all in
and, unconsciously, taken
a life-breath that has
restored my confidence in myself, the world, and all of life?

There's always the sky,
and I want to
let it hear
what I'm saying,
for all that I'm saying.

So here I go.
Tune in for the
sporatic random ramblings
of
a not-quite-poet,
not-quite-writer,
not-quite-dreamer,
not-quite-philosopher,
lover of the world,
who aspires to be
everything and nothing,
and wants to let it show.