Between Skies


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Blue.

The color of our planet from the sky. It is the color of Earth even when we can still pick out the reds of the soil and the green of the trees.

Blue.

It is the part of the sky beneath the clouds, that little pocket air sandwiched between those masses of white and the ground. If you squint, the blue planet looks like another sky, a real sky. That sky is the kind of blue that shocks you with the thrill of eternity and solitude. This ride is a journey that goes on and on. Who’s to say when it will end?

Blue.

As the clouds draw closer together, blanketing the blue earth-sky, the blue cracks the white surface. The clouds become an Earth, an endless tundra of wind and sunlight. White mountains rise in the distance. They are soft, not jagged like the mountains of the earth-sky. Scattered across the tundra, the blue lakes and rivers change the skyscape into a sea dotted with icebergs. The soft mountains float effortlessly across the earth-sky.

Blue.

The sky above remains. I am encapsulated by wind as I search the earth-sky for its bottomless depths. A brown ribbon snakes across a blue lake between the white. The blue fades until I can see the colors of the Earth again. The earth-sky vanishes momentarily.

Blue.

The tundra reappears. Cracks of earth-sky spiderweb the white. I wonder how the earth-sky looks at night. The sky above us would sparkle with lights. Would the clouds cover the lights underneath? Or would we fly between infinite and finite, surrounded by natural and synthetic stars?

Blue.

The grey haze of white mountains rises on the horizon. In fact, it obscures the horizon. I can’t tell where the clouds stop and the sky begins. It’s jarring to see infinity blend with the ground. The blue rivers of the earth-sky zigzag across the tundra to meet those mountains. Then suddenly the cracks disappear and the tundra is seamless cottony snow instead of icebergs. Stripes of blue sky peek out from behind the grey clouds in the distance.

Blue.

A massive iceberg rears its head over the rest of the tundra. I am surrounded by white now, flying in a sea of clouds and blinding light. The earth-sky is no longer visible. The wind is rough. I wonder if this is the middle of a storm. Without gravity, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to tell which way is up.

Blue.

There is no blue to be seen here in the center. The mountains are close now, surrounding me. They’re darker than the rolling hills of the tundra. Bigger. The winds rocks me again. The mountains disappear until nothing exists but a white void. It is bright here, but I am still buffeted by unseen assailants.

Blue.

The brilliance of the sky shocks me as the clouds give way. One mound of white remains, towering above the fuzzy tundra. It is the Uluru of the sky. The sky opens further and the tundra melts away, revealing the blue lakes of the earth-sky as the ground draws nearer. Another kind of blue swallows the ground as the clouds fade.

Blue.

The shadow of rain. In the middle of the clouds, I am pressed between the skies. I descend into the water. I descend into the blue water and wind until I reach the ground.

Blue.

That’s what the satellite saw from the edge.

Our little blue planet shining in the sun.

It saw our sky, our earth-sky, our seas.

It saw blue.

Grey clouds flow swiftly over their white brothers, the tundra. Away from me. Over the blue.

The satellite saw the clouds, the spiderweb cracks, the shining metal birds so close to the final frontier.

Blue.

The little planet was blue. 

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