Sky is the limit

Whenever I feel smug or feel the urge to wallow in self-pity, all I need to do is look up to the skies. The unassuming canvass - offering limitless opportunities to let nature shine in all its glory. There is something very  mysterious about the changing colors and scenes in the sky. Every minute, every day , the scene changes - this plain yet magnanimous stage,  permitting the clouds to chase after each other or to loudly express its emotions, or letting  the moon flaunt the fact that it is still the brightest in the sky and can throw tantrums by playing the invisible act.

Birds can fly fearlessly, in fact even human beings, their voices and their thoughts travel unconcerned. Watch the glorious sun sinking into darkness and the blushing skies giving way to the stars to shine, each slowing being called on to attendance to liven up the otherwise dark sky. Slowly as you focus your eyes -they appear as if responding to your command to appear.

I love to watch the sky in the evening - dusk - is such a dramatic time - birds flocking home, some in pairs, some wait for the others to join , and then there are rebellions, who long after the others have reached home, stagger in fun. Do they get scolded when they reach home - or do they own their time? Do birds have best friends too, and maybe crushes?

I wish I could read their minds - feel the freedom and maybe fly high like the majestic eagle and try to touch the clouds - or does it try and rip  the clouds apart?

For centuries mankind has been fascinated by the sky - our time, our year all ruled by the one over head. It was our navigator, our time clock, our weather forecaster - and our heaven. The immense vastness of the universe encapsulated in our eyes  and gloried and magnified by our imagination. We earthlings yearn to reach the sky - to touch the stars, to bathe in stardust. The glitter, the chatter, the drama, all beyond our reach increases our attraction to this unknown emptiness.


The sky is generous -and loving - it lets nature showcase its beauty  and its anger. The breeze can travel softly, the storm can create a havoc, the clouds can try and intimidate it ,yet there is this quiet assurance, this sagacious confidence that nothing will change it - the drama can play out, but no one owns the sky.

I have lived like a water - deep and mysterious, going with the flow, yet I am attracted to the open skies, and wish for the same wisdom to let the events play out - yet there is the core self - pure and inviting