Looking Outside

The sunrise is spilling in ink,

Past stars where the heavy clouds blink.

New gardens will bloom

In a velvet-spun room,

As tomorrow turns sweet as a wink.

The horizon is drinking a violet tea,

I am drifting through doors on a candy-bright sea,

Every shadow will bloom,

Leaving no ghost of gloom,

As the future unfolds like a bird breaking free.

The clouds turn to clocks made of gold,

As stories of starlight unfold,

I sprint past the moon,

To a bright afternoon,

Where the new world is brave and is bold.

Gravity is a suggestion, a ribbon of silk tied to a comet’s tail,

We are ascending in a lift made of unwritten poems,

The ladder is made of a song,

To heights where we truly belong,

The future is near,

As crystal and clear,

As bells that go ringing along.