Land Between Two Skies

Sometimes, I sit by the waterside and relax my eyes until they glaze over just a little. I imagine the water’s reflection as a second world beneath me. Another sky, clouds, treetops, and a second yellow sun. The world filled with twice as many birds, twice as many things free to float and fall. Though the ground lies beneath me, it falls away to a second sky bereft of the weight of gravity, where clouds flutter and leaves drift up, up, and away. I float on a sliver of land between two skies. 

But the world beneath me is different too. The colors are softer; shapes are longer – distorted. The sky melts into liquid blue. It ebbs and flows. Toss a leaf into this second sky and it shudders in a cascade of ripples. A whole world in motion by one action. I’m in awe of the ground that’s void. A ground where I can look down and let there be no ground. A world doubly more colorful. 

I gaze at the sky now. It’s like looking down but with a boundless plane of vision. The sky is empty. Uncluttered, unlike the ground beneath our feet. 

It’s as if the sky and water will always remain as one, a little separate from all the troubles that stir on the ground, on this sliver of land between two skies.