The silent sky(what the future holds) - by ༒✒︎ 𝕷𝒾𝖇𝓮𝓻𝓽𝔂 ✒︎༒

<h2>THE SILENT SKY(WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS)</h2><h2> </h2><h2> </h2>I look out of the windowAs if it were my life What does the sky say As if it was my future Is it raining?Is it snowing?Is it fogging up? Yet I see nothing, only a long, silent sky,Royal and beautiful,But hiding the reason for its distant glow. UNDERNOTEBetween the glass and the glow 🌟 I think we’ve all had that moment where we press our forehead to the glass and just... wait. For me, the window stopped being glass a long time ago. It became a mirror. It became a timeline. When I say “I look out of the window as if it were my life,” I mean I’ve been searching the outside world for answers to things happening inside of me. The sky doesn’t talk back, but I keep asking it questions anyway. Because sometimes it’s easier to ask the sky than to ask myself. “What does the sky say, as if it was my future?” That’s the part that gets me. We treat the future like weather. We try to forecast it. Is it raining? Will there be a storm I’m not ready for? Is it snowing cold, quiet, and isolating? Or is it fogging up, where I can’t see three steps ahead and I have to learn to walk slow? We want clarity. We want signs. We want the sky to hand us a forecast and say, “This is what’s coming, and you’ll be okay.” But the truth in this poem is the last part: “Yet I see nothing, only a long, silent sky, royal and beautiful, but hiding the reason for its distant glow.” And maybe that’s the point. The sky is silent not because it has nothing to say, but because some answers aren’t meant to be shouted. Some glows are distant on purpose. They pull us forward without giving away the whole map. Royal and beautiful because even in uncertainty, there is dignity. Even in waiting, there is beauty. Even when I don’t know if it’s rain or sun ahead, the sky keeps being the sky. Vast. Steady. Unbothered by my panic. So I sit at the window. I ask my questions. I don’t get replies in words. But the light is still there. Distant, yes. Hidden, maybe. But there. And if the sky can hold all that silence and still glow, maybe I can too. Maybe the future isn’t something I need to decode today. Maybe I’m allowed to not know, and still be royal. Maybe I’m allowed to be quiet, and still be beautiful. So I’ll keep looking out. Not for answers, but for the glow.

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