I don't have much time. I must hurry.

Dear Moon,

We admire you.

We let you guide us.

However the Sky has whispered

The truth to me.

You are nothing but a selfish

being, having stomped on

all else to survive.

I stop writing and put down my quill. I crumble the letter and brush it past my vision.

Then, I try again.

Dear Sun,

You burn our skin.

You blind our eyes,

Forcing our heads down

Letting us get used to the shade of

The earth

So that we never know the radiance

That the sky is.

Your jealousy is a burden

To the ruler that our heavens are.

No, no. this is not right. I look up from my seat and stare into the sky. I frown at the clouds obscuring the realm of beauty I live for.

Dear Clouds and Rain,

You killed me.

You ruined me.

You abused my love

and you forced me

to fall to my knees.

You enslaved me to your mercy

With your hammering drops

Of cold rain.

Clouds- the air is for my lungs

And yet you insist on binding

The earth to the heavens,

Leaving no room for mankind.

I curse myself and rip the paper to shreds. This is not about me. I dip my quill in the bottle of ink and take a deep breath, preparing to start again.

Dear Cold,

My flesh is blistered

and the lips of my lover

are blue.

You slow us

and force us to hide

so that we never appreciate

the grace of the sky.

I shake my head in ultimate annoyance. What is wrong with me? None of this is right.

Dearest Sky,

You and I are so alike.

Abstract and unreal.

You are a limit

Man has created for himself

And I-

I am a limit wanting to be liberated.

Sky, you must know that I see

the colors of dawn and twilight but-

but I look at you.

Sky, the layers of shades

that paint you are brilliant

but you are magnificent.

For what is a painting

Without the canvas?

Sky, my heart aches at sunrise

when the sun vouchsafes you light.

Sky, my soul constricts when the moon

Invades you with its army of stars,

Dominating the world with its light

For what is the light of the moon

Without the darkness of the sky?

Sky, when it rains, I smile

Despite the pain.

I dismiss the clouds because I know

You are immortal and in need of release

That we call death.

What I'm trying to say, Sky, is that-

The shrill sound of a caw invades my ears and obscures my focus. I look up and find that a single raven watches me from a nearby tree. Left and right my head turns and I confirm that my table, ink, and papers are the only presence in this field. My hands tremble as I dip my quill in the ink and slowly set it on my paper. A loud caw resonates through the field and I know my time is up, yet despite the warning of the ravens that swarm above my head, I hastily take to finishing my letter.

What I'm trying to say, Sky, is that-

I know-

They attack me. A hurricane of black feathers conceals my vision and the beating of their wings shakes my very existence.

I know that you are mightier

stronger and most fearsome.

You, Sky,

are not a victim.

You are the humble

ruler

the forgiving lover.

The blindness of the world

has compelled you to

forget your capacity

and to cast away

your own importance.

The bottle of ink clanks with the wood of my desk as it spills its contents onto my letter. My eyes widen with disdain; not seeing that I have become the heart of the hurricane that the ravens are. Despite the exploding sounds of beating wings and caws all around me, I hear thunder roar. A grin tickles my lips when bullets of rain fall down on me as I'm pushed around by the large black birds.

I laugh, for I've managed to anger the marauders of the sky.

I knew the consequences, yet...

yet I had hoped that I would awaken the Sky. I hoped and I still am as I fall down.

I still hope as all the noise gets too much.

I still hope as the rain dents my skin and the ravens await their next victim's demise.

I'm hoping even when I, the heart of this pandemonium, begin to crescendo into a halt, allowing the black scavengers to disperse a little until-

it stops.

___

I'm crying internally because this is just horrible. Only yesterday I came home from traveling and school just started so I had to whip this together and I can't even. This prompt was so exciting too.

It was Spilled Ink and Raven feathers; the first prompt for the second round of The Thinky Ink-Scribers Club.