Under the Sky
Sky observes daily
Looking around do not
Know about the gateway to man-made heaven.
It should not be a poem every time to
Talk about sky, rain and the sun.
Cracks on my ceiling
Climbs down to my spine
I search coherence in my papers
Grasses are gentle
Thorns sometimes pain the eye
Without pricking the finger.
Most of the time it is the beating heart
Afraid of the vastness above the clouds.
Homeless still people live
No lights are lit to turn off
No sheets and high held pillows
To wipe the tears.
No time to set an alarm for the morning
No morning to rest for the day.
How to live without staring at the ceiling?
Makes me wonder about the stars
Sky of vast blanket can rain
Can cause the unwanted pour
Still life is carried
To sail like the every other leaf
Swept by the rain water.