Masters Of The Sky

A distant love in perfect skies of oxygen,
refreshing as a newborn wind, the breath
of love, of pure control and insight known.
An air of logic, calmness faced with death,
where once the winds of loneliness had flown.

I touch her face and see the star,
the rainbow and the gliding bird.
I breathe wet air of cirrus clouds,
and hear angellic voices now where once no sound was heard.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.