Within the vast expanse of brilliant blue,

Jagged fractures spread,

Through smudges of golden white,

As if the heavens hold a razor blade,

Slicing through the sky with great precision.

Each fissure, each crack,

A painful gaping wound,

Bleeding beams of light in golden rays,

Beautiful scars upon the skin of blue,

Where sun rays, like prying fingers,

Desperately push their way through.

Obliterated clouds litter the Earth,

Falling from the sky, like confetti,

Each shard, a silent wave,

A white flag of surrender.

The azure flesh, ruptured and torn,

Yet so boldly vibrant and magnificent,

Reveals the silver linings of its own lament.

A mosaic of pain and perfection,

Each ray of light, a hope embraced.

And in this grand display of broken beauty,

The sky tells a tale, tattered and triumphant,

For every wound inflicted by the day's harsh blade,

Is met with a resilience, in heavenly beams.

So let the sky weep its golden tears,

For even in sorrow, hope shall resurface,

A canvas vast, with wounds so bright,

Barren scars, adorned in Golden halos.