Under the skies

Once,
I opened my eyes under the crooked and dismal skies -
over me stretched the world of emptiness,
twice
I wiped the eyes by hand in a try to suspend
that repulsive view off my lost happiness.         

The skies
as a glumly black bat on the roofing freely sat
in the clouds with unmerciful wind, flopping,
a sodden
plumage held the gall and, thus, wept 
with the rain without a hint of stopping.

But
that was not what me under those skies irked,
the forebodings stormed me as a hurricane,
as a lout
in an aggressive way they were trying to spoil my day
and I couldn’t do anything, quivering in vain.

High up,
the clouds whirled slowly, and it vexed me overly
resembling the cautious herons in the marshes.
Higher,
each constellation formed a crook with pleasant look,
and the stars were glittering like in the fire red ashes.

In the
black I unwillingly saw the notorious Milky Way Saw
ready to crucify the Universe if God allowed.
Scared,
I fled to the dawn praying the way out be found 
but instead was floating on the dreamy clouds.
16.08.2020 г.