Sky: The View From Here

They look to me,
a constant
believing I am a gateway
to paradise,
that I hold answers;
a responsibility
for the tumultuous destruction
of every second.

They don't realize night
affords me the need to shield my eyes
to the atrocities I am forced to witness
in the span of a single day

The abscess of humans
toying with the natural order
- a chemistry of violence and profit
the stink of disposable products
choking out the fresh flowers

And yet, they study weather like a map
as if it can be controlled
predicted,
instead of themselves.

I am just the layer,
a dirty filter
it all must pass through.