We Only See From the Inside【POETRY】

We Only See From the Inside

A red sky is the color of terror:
Clouds of evaporated blood,
The horizon of an exploded sun;
Nothing's more scary than the sky.

But the child's eyes see different:
A blue velvet; a curtain for the stars.
It's the slowest color. Unending, outstretching.
The child's blanket hugs the whole globe,
Eclipsing fire and rays.

The old eyes cry:
“Son you’ll see someday,
That you’re lucky to be a child.
You’re ignorantly undeveloped
And you’ll find it’s a gift when it’s gone.”
And so the child would find,
Later in life, the globe the eyes spoke of.
Just as they said, the blueness was gone.

But one day, a child from the woods
Crested a hill to see a city,
A city of old eyes, a dome of red sky
And took pity.
Her life away from the world
Never darkened with the onset of years.
She proved the old eyes wrong.
That it’s fear that we fear.