The sky unravels, streaks of pain, a restless blue that burns like rain. It sways above the world below,
And pulls my thoughts where shadows go.
I chase its hue through empty streets, its whisper soft, yet incomplete.
A color made of want and loss, of unseen tides, of hidden cross.
It mirrors all I cannot say, the quiet ache of yesterday.
Each cloud a memory I cannot hold, each ray a story left untold.
Yet in its depth, a strange release, a fleeting trace of quiet peace.
The restless blue, though sharp, though wild, reminds me still I am beguiled.
And when the night folds in its arms, its restless calm protects, not harms. The blue remains, both near and far, a guiding pulse, my northern star.
