Nothingness is what I truly am.
Blue when the light touches your bowl of water and blinds my spectrum.
Blue.
Light blue.
Showing you a reflection that you call pretty.
A pretty blue.
Prettiness is false way to describe my semblance that you deny to see, yet when the light is bliss.
I can kiss the darkness in greetings.
But you still fail to see me.
You see him.
Space and time,
darkness and shine.
Glitters and sparkles of other suns and daughters.
Praise him, and me?
What about me?
A mirror to show you your bodies of water and a transparent glass to show you other worlds.
But if I told you to touch me, you'd fail and touch another.
Sky is my name
Who am I to blame of the nothingness that confuse you?
Sky... Pretty blue sky.
YOU ARE READING
Hidden Mysteries
PoetryPoetry is a fine way to tell you exactly who I am. And yet, you'd still be clueless. But of course, prove me wrong.
