my dear friend,
The skies are full of stories. The sky is a stage for silent dramas: feasts and battles stretching and shifting every moment in white and grey and blue.
I could write mountain ranges of words on the beauties of the sky. I've already gushed about stars, but my truest love is the sky by day.
Mostly because of clouds. If a person's phone reveals what they love, then my gallery is a shameless obsession with clouds.
Majesty. It's a word we don't use well, but nothing elevates my thoughts like a massive mountain of soft white rising above the horizon. Or when the fierce engines of a jet lift us above the low greys into the strange topography above. Stark white and blue for miles. Then there are sunsets and sunrises. With colors that somehow strike the heart of us, stop us and tell us we are more than dust. It didn't have to be so full of beauty.
High above us is a world we can't manipulate. Earth we can shape, sift, form. Water we can absorb, divert, collect. But clouds move and form at God's hand alone. And what a hand! I look up and see so vividly the clouds which live far away from the troubles of my life.
If God can make such glory in the skies, he must be able to make something beautiful of my life. If he cares to trim the clouds in gold, splash the sky with pink, sculpt lavender-grey mountains? Well, he must care about the clouds and mountains in my heart, my life.
And yours, too, friend. Tell me about your favorite clouds?