It’s the wisdom of the sky
Even when placed high it never fails to humbly look down

There is much happening everywhere
It knows and recognises in between the clouds

Scattered and collected, the wind, changes the signature of the wispy clouds
The sky remains blue

🌿🌿

Tossed by waves like a boat
On top of the sea
Surrounding are miles of blue
Hope I do not sink too deep

The intense surge of the cold waves seeped in through my bones. It lingers and its bitterness was too rigid in my tongue. Breathing in the water was shallow, closing my eyes so I can swallow the saltiness it gives—the oxygen to breathe.

No thoughts, only an empty head with choking memories of an angel saving a lost sheep—in the vast ocean where the blue seems acquainted and welcoming to strangers. The moment I was out of the water, I still cannot breathe.

Did the ocean hear my longing? The angel's face was like a bottle of old wine, tastes bitter in one's mouth. His wings were heavy, flying through the midnight sky—his face soften as he gazes upon my merciless eyes. I turned away not wanting to lock eyes with him—for the sky forbidden me to taste him.

He was an old wine, living through the dusty shelf to be displayed—when it is his time, his light shines and his wings were like bitter snow, swaying across the lonely sky—his lips a pink-colored cloud and his skin as white as the velvety mists surrounding us.

He then turned to me and said, "I will be your water to breathe from," and gave me the most genuine kiss to breathe from the dryness of my mouth. And tears scattered along the lines of my ceased brows, the satisfaction, the mystery of this longing—the space from where I can breathe again.

The drunken eyes that were staring straight into my core regained his broken wings and I fell right through the deep waters. I closed my eyes, for soon he will fly through the whole universe, and I will be the stranger who saved him.

I breathed in the water, giving me a sense of satisfaction, an old friend of memories swayed along the waves and the coldness it gives, a bittersweet vice and a comforting thunder from which it is like a song. I fell and fell 'til I was in the middle of just drowning; somehow it feels warm and good.

His face flashed right in front of my eyes. His goodness, how he tastes, how I long for him—how mysterious his eyes were. How he is an old friend of grace and death disguised as an angel.

How I can breathe in the water and through his lips. Somehow, I am not a stranger to this place.