The sky is our ground in a place where the perilous ground hangs overhead,
and clouds record our footsteps.
deep and shadowed in the soft congealed white of youth.

The sun dies above us
and descends upon us the fire of its rebirth.
The moon, our constant companion, follows us at our side.

Above, the world bustles,
upside down people in an upside down world,
an army of confusion swirling on the precarious heavy brown sky.

We are together among the clouds,
where dew drapes the rainbows in a gentle rain,
living in our castles of moon rock and stars,
with gardens of velvet night
covered with flowers of exploding planets
and leaves of shooting stars.
We skip by day above the storms below
and drift by night with the magical breeze
of Aurora on our backs,
making footprints in the clouds.

In a round world where the ground meets the sky,
we are living dangerous carefree lives,
you and I,
treading the edge of the clouds,
the border of reality and fantasy,
pragmatism and insanity.

We have found the ability to fly
without taking our feet off the sky in an insane world
where the sky supports the heavy burden of the ground.

Poem by E.T. in dedication to a very special person:
Peridot Light Bayi Mahluk Asing Ono Babushka
Akachan.

Picture by www.visualparadox.com