The sky outside is lovely bright,
it is clear and blue and white.
The clouds float on along across the earth
and nothing shall decrease their worth.
Too far along and in between,
there lies a sense of misbelief.
In substitutions for free will,
as faces stare above the window sill.
Trapped within a whirlwind mind
of novels writ in another time,
I stand outside, for the sky I see,
speaks to me of liberty.