Keeper of winds that rage and clouds that weep,
of gusts that blow and souls that sleep.
The sky is deaf to prayers and pleas.
It does not answer, it does not grieve.
The sky is blind, it does not see;
it does not judge earth’s vain beauty.
The sky is truth, naked and bare,
it holds the secrets that we not dare.
The sky is where we send hopes on high.
The sky is truth.
The flesh a lie.