Somewhere in the Sky

People say that somewhere in the sky

there are melodious Myriads making music.

It’s said they sing alongside a six-winged choir.

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I have not heard angelic anthems or seraphic songs.

But I have heard something similar to it.

It’s the sound a rock makes once it lands on the other side of a powerline.

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Not just any rock.

A rock that kicks up the dust coating an old county road.

The kinds I’d throw on long summer days as a boy.

And not just any powerline.

A powerline that stretches high above an old country road.

The kinds I’d see on long summer days as a kid.

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There has always been something empyreal about those times.

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People say that somewhere in the sky

there’s a crystal sea clearer than glass could ever be.

It’s said that its gleaming glowing glitters.

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I have not seen pellucid waters hiding in our firmament.

But I have seen something similar to it.

It’s the view you have while walking down Pecan Ave. and Relía Str.

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Pecan Ave. is not just another road.

It’s where my good friend has always lived.

The kind of friend that causes your heart to sing harmonious hymns.

Nor is Relía Str. just another road.

It’s where my childhood friend has always lived.

The kind of friend that gives nostalgia a bright and smiling face.

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There has always been something heavenly about those streets.