The Skies' Fancy

The skies lashed out at me, simply because,

I dared be myself,

A broken doll with a particular personality,

Living up to my own ideologies

And constantly yearning to lose myself

In between the many folds of my own shadows!

The skies lashed out at me

To the extent of having me

Running, fleeing, flying

Into the depths of the earth

Wanting no more to have any contact

With their essence

Essence, having the ability to animate me!

All alone, paining with the intensity of the heat

I chose to sleep inside a statue

One made of such a matter

Which cannot be broken

Which cannot be melted

Why, one from whose comfort

I shall never rouse!

But the skies, upon freeing

Themselves from their delusional ego,

Sought me out!

And, finding me not,

Poured out their grief on all living beings

Inflicting them with the curse of aging and

Death!

Till, unable to bear it all,

Earth's mother rumbled her stomach out

And spit me out!

Overjoyed, the skies cried with regret upon seeing my state

Yet, delighted at finding me, they worked hard to wake me up

But lost in a dream which I had drowned myself in,

A dream which I can control

And guide, as I deem it best,

Their calls remained unheeded!

But when the Grand Master of the skies 

Came upon my statue

And whispered from his soul

That if I so desire it to be such

He shall Himself cease to be,

The pain that throbbed through me

Was too much to handle!

I woke, jolted with love as I had never known before,

I woke, and

I walked out of my statue,

Bid the Grand Master to see how fragile my heart is

And to accept it only if He shall be able to care for it!