The Sky Is Beauty

Crystallized orbs explode
and cause an ember,
of fire red upon the sky.

Shards of beauty fall with passion
and transcend on the system that
built up the sky.

Screams are drowned out with the
sound of ear piercing
Silence.

The quiet rustle of wind blows up
the dust and decay,
of the now barren planet.

The wind blows away the screams.
Any tortured-young-screams were drowned out.
No chance for any of them anyway.
Nothing is anything without the sky.
And this piece,
this now empty canvas of a once beautiful world,
where people laughed and cried,
Together.

If they predicted the end, they were surely wrong.
They didn't dive deep enough.
Sad fact,
no one predicts the end of what is already tragic,
and no one would expect it would end with such
beauty and radiance.
So beautiful that if you saw it with your eyes,
you surely would want to die.

This scenario, is in fact the end
of these few, but strong
yet weak at heart.
Ignorance,
floats above the heads and is inhaled in with the
oxygen and pollution from,
The Majority,
as they build above.
Water is such a luxury.
Parched mouths of the few
and the end their screams.

Faces stare at the blank face,
emotion is not shared between them
and the power of positive energy,
turns the few against
Themselves.


You can't forget the Power of a few,
but in this tragic case,
they will not rise.
The power will be sent to the sky,
because so much of what,
The Majority
destroys is themselves.

Everything fades through the structure of
Evolution
and oppression leads to bleak misery.
The sky is formed with sleek alchemy,
that has been forged for the protection of themselves.

No one predicts the end, but when it comes,
so sudden there is no time
to react.
Things will end.
You won't scream.
There will be silence from
The Majority.
The few will perish because of the misery
that has been forced upon them.
No one predicts the end,
but when it comes the moment will seem idle,
Unexpected.
The Positive energy that makes
the beings, beings
will be there
and it will have no worry.
An unexpected end,
where everyone dies alone
is built upon the edge of a knife.
It, whatever it may be,
Will fall.

The beauty of explosions in the sky
is that of the beings realizing their end.
They embrace what they are.
The beauty is the sky,
exploding upon the few who don't matter.
Their love for one another.
Their happiness.
Their high.
In the universe of nothing,
Existence, the meaning is to Exist.
These few did, they did it all wrong.
And they ended themselves,
with their ideas,
with increased violence,
with rape,
with drugs.
With poison and ignorance they
created their own suffocation and
departure from existence.
The glass shatters,
and when nothing is left,

Creation Begins.