Hard Work

The sky's sweat

is a cloud.

Holding the secrets

of the universe

back from humanity

is still hard work,

despite the blue

being split by occasional

balloons, aircraft, and rocketry.

We stare through it

with our biggest eyes,

only to see it trying

to wiggle itself away

from our curiosity

and it's responsible appointment:

to keep us from discovery.

Night used to be its sweatshirt;

unwashed with the smell of fear.

Yet some of us questioned

our abilities to overcome it,

deciding the air and what's beyond

nothing but a toothless badger.

That bravado became its reason

to spit us back to the ground

until we respected the daily toil

we had not recognized.

Now that we do,

we test each others' mastery:

one with lightning,

the other with controlled fire.

Through it all

there is still more sky

than humans who want to conquer it.

Instead, fighting the neighbor

for limited ground remains,

until all realize

there's more space overhead

to protect and serve,

wasting nothing in our quest

to go beyond ourselves

into the kingdom of suns.

Barry G. Wick