The gods paint pictures in the sky each morning
Creating pathetic fallacies in whipped water vapors
Welcoming eyes to look upward into its feathery expanses
The endless canvas of an indecisive artist trying to share existence
Promising simplicity in purpose;
waiting for someone to understand

But we continue to stare at the ground
Eyes weighed down by our complications
Found inside worries and fears
Casting glances at swollen feet and sprained ankles
We trip, lying prostrate, unable to roll onto our backs
Forgetting to bask in what is beyond us

The gods kiss red, orange, and pink hues into the sky
Gently tossing the clouds from their hands into the air
Culminating tufts of thoughts they’ve heard through the day
Playfully grinning at their secret yet discovered
And wait for someone to look up and hear the colorful music of life

They wait and watch for a single soul to start dancing
For in that moment the gods would know their secret was no more
But those that dance hide their secrets just as well for
“Those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane
By those who could not hear the music”*

*Friedrich Nietzsche