The Sky

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Enter into the sky,
And look at the clouds.
Surf through the blue,
And dive through the white.
Then paint the hazy rainbows,
And create the trip of a lifetime.
All yellows, blues, reds, and purples.
Combined together to form white,
Which will fade to black.
Until all has ended,
The cycle will continue.
However, in the end,
A great fireball will wipe out the sky.
And anybody who enters it
Will be incinerated.
There will be no high,
And the trip will be over.
And all across the land,
There will be death.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved. Written circa 1996.

Tittu

Poet’s Note:
For Throwback Thursday. The Sky was written in 1996, when apocalyptic visions seemed to be a thing for me 😅 — a rainbow ride into light that goes quite unexpectedly. The centered text takes on the shape of a mushroom cloud, echoing the fireball in its lines.