Confession of a bored child
When I was a kid
I wanted to tear the sky the moment it became that one shade of blue
Everyday, always, I wanted to reach through
And meet the one who operated the damn thing
I wanted to ask how-- and why he did it.
How he changed the sun from red to yellow to something I couldn't see
Was it a lamp that he held over the earth alighting and dimming it as he moved it over me from morning to evening
How he could be so tenacious to cut pieces of moon for days and then add them back after stealing it for one night
Or was he so clumsy that he broke the same lamp a little every night and made a new one with the stars --piece by piece-- after losing the former
It intrigued me how he painted the vast sheet above me with so many different colours in a single day
I wished only to be big enough to reach up to it,
removing the fluffy clouds out of my way and tear the perfect looking palimpsest sky to go through.
To my utter and constant disappointment, I always came up short
And now, though I know how it works
I wonder still if I ever will reach there.