The Sky is the same everywhere. It is unchanging through time, a silent witness of the ages, quietly documenting the rise and fall of men and nations while forever floating thoughtfully above and around the Earth. There is a sense of history about the Sky. This is the same Sky that was here two hundred years ago when Volta trapped lightning, or two thousand ago, when Jesus spoke his Sermon on the Mount. It was here before Jesus of course, even before the Earth or the Stars. Right from the beginning of time it was here and there and quite everywhere and all over the place.
The Sky is the one thing that is always above and with you. Time slips away at the speed of sixty minutes per hour, and the time for me and you is quite different from the time for the ancient Indians when they wrote the Vedas or Shakespeare when he wrote Hamlet. But the Sky is the same. The Sun and the Moon are constant too, but not as constant as the Sky. The Sun that is right above your head now will be right above someone else’s head twelve hours later, and the same is for the Moon. What’s more, the Moon has its phases. The Sky though, neither waxes nor wanes like the Moon, and it shall be here as long as the Earth is, whether by Day or by Night.
The Sky is our idea of ‘Upwards’. We raise our eyes to a distant ambition, and ‘aim for the Skies’. For those who believe in thinking BIG, the Sky is the limit, and sometimes even that lofty ceiling of clouds falls short of their mark. The Sky is ever above.
In an airplane it is different. The Sky is below you, for you are then floating in a sea of soft, moody waves of rose, white and gold, and every shape in Earth or Heaven is played before your eyes like some unearthly ballet set to music by the angels. Here is a swan floating in a dream-lake of light and air, and the next moment it is a pillow for a sleepy head, and then it is a ship of mighty sailors many ages ago.
The Sky is with you, for the Sun is ahead, throwing out a net of silk and gold to snare you willingly and draw you to his royal and noble radiance. It hangs there like some forgotten fruit of the Garden of Eden that glows from within with warmth and care, now hidden by a soft veil of clouds, now tearing apart the misty curtain with arrows of fire.
The Sky is above you. At night the Stars come out to peep at the World of mortals below, endless, lidless eyes that smile with every one who celebrates and mourn with all who are deep in sorrow. The Sky is below, and with, and above, and its Skyness takes you by surprise and wraps you in a blanket of wonder and moves your heart.
The Sky is constant in its presence, but not in its colours or in its moods. One day it is a relentless blue nearing white, a cruel sheet of hardened metal that gives off dry heat to choke and suffocate the wood and flesh below, or dry up the water and give way to cracked and parched land.
Or with the coming of the rains it is a spray of nectar and crystal, cooling the Earth and rescuing...