The sky can not fall from hands that hold it
even when shaky and weak from misuse,
horizons bleed between fingers that split
while hanging many years by withered noose.
Storms come and go above the swaying crown
leaving behind tears in puddles of dirt,
unearthed are roots struggling to not drown
in the sudden downpours that carry hurt.
Relish the sunrise far away from touch
painting rainbows upon the edge of day,
calling upon the sun's strength as a crutch
to wash away lingering clouds of gray.
Upon me you are shining ever bright
and I hold onto you throughout the night.
Adding your comment:
Most impressive, my Friend. 
