I was told there's to be a sky. 
Blue, pure and infinite. 

There are rivets instead. 
And paint peeling in place of wonder and oust for a godess's bed. 

This is before the chanting. 

With holy knowledge, I walk past the salt fires. 

My head is not low enough to stop the piercing of their eyes. 

Under my straw hat I listen while fish begin their journey towards flight. 

Death brings lessons for us all. 

Under the city's bridge, your reflection shimmers and breaks with each of the world's turns. 

So remove yourself. 

Next year there will be time enough to secure your footing. 

For now a few restraint will hold. 

Your presence is majestic. 

Above the clouds. 

With none to see you fall. 

None to hear the surrounding thunder.