When they look at the sky

I wonder what they think,
when they look at the sky;
Are they counting their scars, in this battle of dark:
Whispering screams to the stars, pleading miracle flowers;
Do they resonate their struggles, with those tearing away rocks:
Or do they simply surrender, in the truth of doing beyond?

I wonder which part of heavens,
do they think they resemble;
The dusk of the dawn,
or the stars of the dark?
Do they look for the light in the night:
Run away from the shadows of the day;
Or they purposely stumble into abyss:
Try to blaze it down so it can ash them down?

Do they echo their fears to the sun:
Sing freedom to drifting away clouds;
Trap air in the horizon of lungs:
Sway to jiggle in time and mind?

I wonder what they see,
when they look at the sky;
Are they transcending through galaxies into their unnamed past:
Letting spilled blood reverberate in kaleidoscopic heart;
Do they quiver before to think what they feel, to see what they think:
Or do they beg to become the ghost of a doll?

I wonder what they feel,
when they look at the sky;
Do they fight in madness:
Or do they dwell in the fall?