The color has been stolen from the sky,
gagged and tossed in the back of a black van.
In its absence we are suffering
through the wet fog of lost memories.
Leaf through the encyclopedia, there is no record found.
The sky has never been any color
other than white, thickly
sitting on the earth.
In caves we are painting
of skies full of crimson and violet
of clouds as thin as the edge of an envelope.
And if we pray
we don't ask for peace, as we see the horsemen coming.
We only beg the gods
for a little blue sky.