The night sky became, a negative,
An inversion of day and yet as light.
Clouds luminous, played the part of stars,
Imposters shimmering and magnified,
The crystal foam of a different ocean
Than had ever been above.
Chalk against a charcoal canvas.
Waves that moved in steady motion,
So out of place became so right.
A painting given gift of life in hues
Much deeper than shades of gray,
Stood out against an ebony, of piano keys
Or ink. As if the clouds and sky were not of one,
But from different worlds, they sat
Staring down, attracted opposites they were,
That drew in eyes and wonderment.
All looked upon this masterpiece
That called itself the night,
Not night as you or I have ever known.
The sky the heavens see
When they rest weary eyes,
The sky that stories tell of in far off lands,
The very strands of life and faith
Weave themselves to form, what some would call,
The very art of God.
Mornings dawn and light breathes
Again sweet air and golden hue,
But none forget the masterpiece
Buried by time, so much alive in souls
In hearts and minds, that saw,
That shall remember, when clouds
Played the part of stars, when two worlds met
And danced together in the sky,
That called itself the night.