The sky lay out like an untouched ocean with clouds floating like lotuses of a moonlit pond. He craned his neck to see the Sun dive into the heaven’s oceans; diving into unknown depths; to rise from another ocean. There were some teasers here and there, like the pathway of an invisible diver, shining a torch with yellow light onto the cotton candy above him. He was reminded of the cotton candy delights he’d savor while the grass tickled his crossed legs and the sun glittered his back with diamonds in the July fairs.
The Sun that had created an endless golden dome above the sea of cotton candy, now. The dome which a painter had just started filling like a grand canvas, splattering red at the horizon of heaven’s sea. The Sun, he presumed, was perhaps playing Hide-n-Seek with him. And was perhaps even winning; giggling as it left him curious with hints at blocked ends. It seemed like the painter had been tempted a bit too much to give his sweet tooth a little treat, making the sky bleed like centuries old wine somewhere and like strawberry jam somewhere else. There were sculptures of various fancies sprinkled with frosting and caramel occasionally. He was starting to wonder if the skies had plotted a plan to make his mind diabetic and his heart a 10 year old.
“Would you like something to eat or drink, Sir?”
Ssh. He wished; murmuring his past, forgotten desires into the endless dome.
“Thanks, I’m good.”
He’d normally watch a movie or so. Or catch up with missed good nights. Or just simply both. He thought he’d do that but the painter had his attention wrapped around his paintbrush.
It was fascinating. To see the ultimate canvas that had masterpieces being created on its delicate, smooth threads every second; every moment. A canvas you couldn’t auction. A canvas whose starting bid were the stars from its very heart. A canvas that could only be drunk through your eyes. He drank in the paintings created. One after the other. Like the blinking of eyes. He watched as the sky grew from cotton candy to cigarette puffs and petroleum fogs. He watched the royal blood color the skies in its royalty with the rivers of lava waiting to be absorbed. He watched the colors change to contrasts. Drank in the sky falling asleep, only to wake up in its dreams. Breathing in every second. Every painting. He saw himself sink into another sky; dipping slowly, steadily. A sky that twinkled with hopes. A sky below the heavens. The sky from where he drank in the stars every night, and dawn every morning. The sky from which he aspired to touch the sky he was floating in now.
To the sky where he breathed from the sky that made his heart live.