I sit under my window, and stare toward the sky.
The Sun, is my longing,
to feel its' warmth and bathe,
in its glory and nurturing ways.
To seek sight, knowledge, and beauty.
From mesmerized eyes below,
I behold your purpose.
The Clouds sit so comfortable, in the sky.
Sometimes clustered, other times
lightly sprinkled in playful amazements for
the ever gazing eye.
Always toward the Sun they cross,
to protectively cover, or helpingly hide, or
spontaneously run in the strength of undefined millions, united.
I behold your ability.
Determined light, Moon, toward you I rest my eyes.
In the obscure corners of the sky,
you reflect the light of that one great star,
upon all low places and boarders wide.
So precious is your support,
I wonder in your amazement and dream
beneath your shadows.
I behold your flexibility.
Scattered Stars, in an array-ment of patterns.
Each hand picked and named for my enjoyment.
Inflaming spectrum for the nights galore,
spread your wish's' toward some stimulus nova
and hopes' encouragement flutters you high.
I examine your mystery with a dedicated eye,
toward the sky my mind illuminates traces of your blissful bright's'.
I behold your splendor.
Oh massive and captivating Heavens,
the foundation of the sky.
I stare towards you in the morning.
To behold your favor,
the eyes of the blinded are forever free.
It seems at times the earnest Sun,
wealthy Clouds, mirrored Moon, and sited Stars
gently lay in your graceful trust.
I behold your majesty.