Finally, I Touched the Sky

I used to write poems about the snow
The whiteness the purity
Immaculate oh how it percolated my throe!

But now I’ve realized they were half-lies
Well, at least, in my own guise
Pretentious me oh I succumbed to Vanity!

For how could I have written about the snow
When I hadn’t even touched its glow?

But that Saturday, my Muse bestowed me another chance
To weave something about the jaded snow
And this time, believe me, I was in silent lucidity
For I beheld its fall in nonchalance and woe, not in revelry

Morning came, outside the window-
Pane Silent cottons of feather-bits a-flow Pain!
From the sky above to the ground below
Kissing the waiting grasses ever so slow

O smooth o smooth-
Ness silent and white
West! I never thought it could be so bright
Less than love o loveli
Ness so soft and light

Towards the windowpane I sauntered
Slowly and opened it bliss-
Fully a chilly breeze embraced my skin
O how I wished I was with my closest kin

I just closed my eyes and let my soul fly free
A vague smile on my lips uttered unmistakably
Mustering words that said: “Finally, I touched the sky.”
I finally touched feathery bits of the unreachable sky

- 7:20 p.m., December 4, 2003, Thursday; Surrey, British Columbia
(While listening to “The Sun Always Shines on TV” by a-ha [Hunting High and Low; 1985, Warner Bros.])