There is something about the sky that makes me put off all conjectures to rest and think anew. It is uncanny how I cannot see this kind of depth in the deepest oceans, but the skies have it. They are so crazy and wild and yet collected and disciplined. I love how they are so whimsical all the time, changing colours and projecting beautiful canvases. It makes me want to pick up the brush and paint my stance all over the horizon. And I love how they stand tepid to the brazenness of the sun and the penchant moon, and yet it is home to both. It makes me giddy in the way that I want to hop and touch it like I would get blue fingers.
It is like the sole envoy of the universe, atleast the only one that beams at me with gleaming eyes and outstretched arms.
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