What do you see from up there?
This sombre, panoramic vista as ever omnipresent,
When you view from within your sepulchral glass clouds,
Looking down at what you’ve left behind.
Or so you thought.
Do you ever notice what you’ve left behind?
Your head is so high up there,
Tending around your glass clouds,
You forgot how grounded you can be.
All your spoken thunders,
Tumbling round and round the river,
Cascading down all together, like a diver,
Myriad of retribution shower.
The ability to choose, a simple favour;
An immense, flavourful power;
Are you a user or an abuser?
Whirlwinds of anti-counter, a creator and a close lover;
It was never your desire,
But, how long do you want to live in fear?
What do you see now from up there?
Do your glass clouds still sombre?
What about the spoken thunders? Are they still weary and bare?
Nothing but loud and lacklustre.
Will you come down, starry?
Your framework of felicity;
Your silhouette of sanity;
Your skeleton of humility;