Painted Sky

9 o'clock hits my office window on the 5th floor with a thundering silence. Immediately my gaze fixes outside. Just about sunset, I look at the sky and see navy blue cloudbottoms in an indigo sky. It looks like a sky painted, a sky created by something more than its elements, a sky that has come together through hundreds of bonds and connections, but now stands almost still. Silent. The wind rustles through the leaves below it to give me an indication that the clouds will likely still move forward, but today I cannot see the movement. The clouds I have painted seem to loom all around my office. They're not dark clouds, nor are they rain-filled anymore. They are simply formations in front of my eyes, here for me to remember what once was a storm, but more importantly what will soon be a sunny day.

Today, tonight, I'm not looking at the deep blue clouds that I have painted in the sky. Today, tonight, I find peace in the gentle rustling of the leaves, the flickering of tiny lights from cars and airplanes, for they remind me that there comes a sunny day, and that in the meantime, there is much life to live. Now, back to work.

9:11

where are you

In the mist
In the haze
In the tulip
On the sand
In the setting sun
In the fire moon
In the morning dew

Always with me
But never here

John Hiatt

Have a little faith in me.

Every song.