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Don't Take the Sky Away


Sky is what lets one be with its hazy ungivens. Lots of apprehensions can be washed off the mind only if one dares to glance the blue above for long. Sky lends its egalitarian stability, it infuses expansiveness too. Sky speaks to you in the language of the possibilities. Sky lets you be as one among the flakes around. Sky pushes every hopeful mind into a frenzy  of quietening ethos. Sky delights you with the fact that you can make an object of your gaze, without any need to do anything physical. Sky lets you be united with it through the vapourous union.

Don't take my sky away. When I liberate myself from the sleeping cell of nights and put myself out, put my feet up, it is the nonchalance of the morning sky which lets me wake into the sleep. The minuscule me is sedated into calming sense of unreality by the same sky too. When it wraps itself in a blanket of darkness, the sky lets me change heart. As the climate change makes the sky more unpredictable, mixing fog and rain and sunshine, the sky decimates the predictable pattern life begins impose.

Rather than taking my breath way, the sky breathes in the surreal. Sky lets me interrogate the fixity of things around. The sudden jolt of the crow as it flies across in the dusk, problematises the sky for me. The wind washed clouds which lie on its back to be sun warmed makes the sky for me. Sky is a why. It helps ignite unkalamian dreams. Unrocket like. Sky brokers the deal between the romance and research. The Calvino kind of cosmicomics releases that.

Don't take the sky away. Because a skyless world is one bereft of imagination. Sky is the apogee of a lay mind's eye since it is and it isn't. Since the vapourous nothing is nothing but vapour where lies the sky? The foremost of dreams are launched in the childhood with the sky residing stars and sun defying sky. The soft blue above has packed stories of another world. The realms which may lie above, the heavenly abode of the Divine, too watered our imagination. The constellation of sparkles which descend on the sky in the night is an exercise for the writer in decking the mind.

Sky is the aerial route. The way to an emptiness that embraces everything. The fluffy stuff which puffs up our moorings. When it rises in us we levitate. An act of emotional glide which lets the thoughts lose. 

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