Like uninterrupted skies
Of azure lacquered blue,
The future spreads before us,
Before me, before you.
When I look up and I see,
The same scene stretched above
The same colour here as there,
I know the future looks the same too.
Open, hopeful, beautiful –
Essential to my every waking moment,
The belief that it will be better,
That summer will return to these streets
These streets of my youth where
I still hear echoes of the past.
But beyond the beautiful bounding blue,
Sprawling eternal over the fairest view,
Refractive angles of incidents
Prismatic concatenations of light
Rebounding off of gaseous hosts;
Myriad mirroring obfuscating sight.
Reflected in all directions as though to blind
Us to the stars lurking, furtively, behind.
Is there not something poetic in that truth?
The colour I so associate with happiness,
That beautiful, wondrous, peerless, blue,
Is just an illusion.