God Who Paints the Sky

The sun had not yet risen, we knew the mourning from the night, a lot of hatred would fall on us, we could not bear ourselves. We were the guardians of the lights illuminating the sky, we were longing for the landscape that knew us. We were longing for the ice cold water in which we swam. Everything existed for us to see and feel. God had painted the sky with his mighty brushes, and over time, his flowing paint would spill from the sublime sky, he could not stand the nights any longer. The world's tears were rain, its screams were northern lights.