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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write. Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground. Kiya's gift. I love it!
Off the Cuff / My Other Journal
#809255 added March 7, 2014 at 12:30am
Restrictions: None
Skies So Beautiful...
"Nobody deserves your tears, but whoever deserves them will not make you cry." Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Such a truthful statement, and it applies to me because my truth is, I practically never shed tears. Something in me stops tears spilling out of my eyes. But if I could cry, I would, yesterday evening.

Where I live, yesterday was a miserable day with several tornado warnings, torrential rain, and strong winds. Cell phones beeped with warnings, and a few panic-stricken people called each other to see if they were all right in the storm. Oh, the fury of the skies at that time...

But then the rain stopped around five o'clock; the muggy air cooled down, and we could open the windows and doors again. In another hour or so, I noticed a golden sky with bluish-purple clouds drifting by. The light golden color in the background shone as if it were backlighted through a mirrored glass screen. To me this felt like the drying of tears, after a good cry. Not that I cry, but I have observed some people who do a fantastic job of crying with tears that resemble diamonds. The sky reminded me of that, reminded me of a person who is in the process of drying those tears and shedding his/her grief.

Following this panorama, in the next few minutes, burst a sudden splendor. The sky turned crimson with purple clouds and yellow highlights. As if it were doing a dance of joy...Such a stunning color scheme that the First Artist must have put together when He created the skies...

I watched this magnificence from my backyard, knowing the pleasure's not mine to keep. Not the storm, neither the beautiful skies. All I had was the moment to cherish. As Rumi said:

"Look as long as you can
at the friend you love
No matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back toward you."

So whether what we encounter is the storms of grief and pain or the calm of beauty and joy, it is momentary, just as our lives were destined to be, because for His masterpiece, the First Artist created everything in transitory colors.
 ~
 ~

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