Wamboin sky 22.4.20
Sometimes the sky is so far away, you don’t recognise it. It’s far but close, insinuates itself. It has meaning but you have no language to decipher it, no ancient language, only new stuff, make believe to cover ignorance.
It’s more beautiful than I can contemplate. Not too beautiful. I don’t hide from it as I might have done before.
This sky is not made from what it is. It is not what I know it to be. That is a ruse. This sky is furrowed earth, mottled milk. It is stroking, tender, endless love.
It is essentially a sunny day and this blue is textured, bleeding. The sky has veins.
God was useful to help explain how scale is so capable.
Being that we are looking up at it, this is an underbelly. It is vast and private at the same time. Big intimacy.
A blue sky is not a distant thing. Flat blue is friendly and space less. This sky shows how far back the screen is, to remind us how big the room. I would normally call out to test the acoustics but I think my voice may not cut the mustard today.