The Sky / A Short Story

The sky didn’t know what to do, it was confused.

There were so many things beneath him he didn’t understand, for he was just a huge piece of blue who’s always just been there. Watching everything go along and change, watching babies turn into lovers, and lovers into fathers, and in turn making babies. Watching sinners sin the same sins again.

The sky was just there, and there he was, he was everywhere, he was seeing everything, even his old friend wind had left him for better adventures. The clouds didn’t mind him as much as they could, because they always end up falling apart for good. Or bad. The sea was his big mirror, and he delighted seeing himself whenever things were clear. He always believed he was beautiful in all ways.

But one day, out of confusion, he fell down. He broke into a thousand million pieces, each as sharp as a shard of glass, falling down into the earth. Sky reached terminal velocity. Sky was all over the earth, but this time, he was with the soil and not watching it from above. The moon forgot about him. The clouds still stay the same, falling apart every once in a while. Old friend wind sometimes finds his way back to the old sky, its thousand million pieces scattered all over the earth, greeting each shard with hi and hello. 

Sky, from then on, looked up into his huge reflection of himself, unbroken, unshattered, whole. Complete. From a thousand million pieces in different corners of the globe he looks up every sunrise, only to find his old self go along and change, watching himself watching babies turn into lovers, and lovers into fathers, and in turn making babies. Watching himself sin along with the sinners who sin the same sins over and over, and over, again.

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