An Ode to the Sky PART III

It’s not like there was much more to talk about, so here I decided to take out all the stops and go for it. Here is the result of having very little to actually go with, although the pictures are still beautiful. And with a new donor of photos to boot!!
Here is the launch of Mach 3, as the sky continues to be the holy, shining limit.

“Flowers

Worshipping the sun
Blowing in the wind,
They enjoy themselves.
Ah, the air’s so clean!”

Photo credits: Himala de Silva
Poetry: Vasika Udurawane

“Pink”

The color of love was rampant that day
The sweet blush of your tender cheeks
As forever I gazed into the heavens
Heaven on Earth in my own homeland
For the mother is true,
Beauteous grace,
That lives in the skies above me”

Photo credits: Vijini Mallawaarachchi
Poetry: Vasika Udurawane

“A Riot of Blues

Azure, cyan and tiffany blue,
Cornflower blue, turquoise and electric blue too,
Not forgetting powder blue, Carolina blue and of course, sky blue,
A billion shades of blue.
All distinct,
yet each one so glorious and uplifting,
as they dance across this sky.
And so I thought,
when we are sad,
why do we say that we are “feeling blue”?”

Photo credits: Name withheld

 — at Royal Botanical Gardens, Peradeniya

Dedicated to all friends who are as inseparable as the sky and the ocean; to all friends who don’t let differences in race or religion to create rifts in their friendship…
Photo credits and poem: Shailee Wick
“Shades of wonder
Of beauty
Love and unity
Of the vast oceans
That connect us
Of the high skies
That look over us
Blue; the true color of friendship”
 — with Shailee Wick in Thailand

“Icarus”

Sweet holy Muse, from divine lips as yours was spilled the tale
A tale of youth, the tale of death.
Of the naming of a sea, of intoxication, and
Of flame-hot ambitions as deep as the depths of the world beyond!

They jumped!
A leap of faith, truly, for death, the boy never knew,
Would come easy here. Freedom! Liberalia, thou trickster goddess,
Why had you worked on the mind of blooming sweet youth?
On the spawn of the architect, the rebel, the master, the great?
For as he hammered and his soul worked till dim,
Youth did linger, waiting, waiting, waiting,…..
Gazing out of the tower….when would freedom come?

But the morning came.

A symphony of metal feathers raked across the air
As they took off, as Daedalus did soar! And soar so high, so far above,
But the inebriation was too much for the youngster. The power, the manhood, the shining light,
His eyes with fires glowed as the wind whipped him, the power of the wind in every kiss and
Caress he felt. Why was he not a bird?
The Liberalian elixir still coursed through him as he dived down….further up, higher up, to the deep skies
He rose! As the gods looked upon this mortal folly, this intoxication,
As rays of Phoebus cast down their golden forms,
Those swords sliced into the wings….

And…

Down did he go…”

Photo credits: Rochelle Silva
Poetry: Vasika Udurawane

Excuse my lack of material on this poem, I may be having writer’s block.

So there isn’t much material anywhere here, it pales in comparison to its predecessor, but hey! I ain’t complaining, and the sky will forever be the limit.

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