Framing the sky

As I walk, I imagine: What if a piece of the sky, formless as it is, were to walk beside me? What would we talk about?

I wonder about the stories it has witnessed, all the things it has seen… bearing life in its core.

         Would it tell me about all the dreams conceived beneath it?

         Would it tell me, with all its softness, about the people dying underneath it?

         Would it tell me of our endless attempts to reach it, to capture it?

         Would it tell me of a time long before humankind?

         Would it tell me of a single drifting particle, one flowing up there, akin to one flowing in me?

         …

Humanity looks up; the sky reaches down.

In the Shinto genesis story, two gods sat high in the heavens, gazing down upon the waters of the earth. Izanagi and Izanami, the brother and sister of creation, were given a vajra in the form of a spear. Standing on the bridge between heaven and earth, they stirred the earthly waters with it.
From a single drop of salt, the first land arose.
Then, they ascended and breathed.

A longing in reverse:
What is above longs to descend.
What is below longs to ascend.
Dreaming of each other.
Fragments of each other.
Creatures in between two worlds.
As the earth is, so is the sky.
Realms bearing within each other the seeds of life.