Skywords © Poem by Roann Mendriq

Tonight the sky is but a page,
dark with inky midnight blue;
Cloudy words fade grey with age,
Dimly lit with purple hue.

And then a splash of star bright white,
streaks accross unwritten lines;
The hand of God begins to write,
in cursive form and fine designs.

Each star is His own signature,
His sign of hope and joyful light;
His beacons fielding off the fear,
and terrors of the darkest night.

Yet earthbound man turns down his face,
Never skywords, a sad disgrace.