Perfect Flow

Rain in the sky never floated so perfectly,
like the wind were the water where
droplets descended into darkness and blue
that met the distant horizon without notice.

Harmonious waves without white whirl
above your damningly damaged depths,
whose pressure prevents my peering
and tithes me with mistrusts upon rising.

Flighty and fleeting as our forewind flutters,
I cannot conceive of convoluted constellations
trickling upward like little listless lights
giving glimpses of glittery glowing guiles.

My skies cascade cacophonies of clarity
as my anxious air agonizes to entrust to you,
and cowardly breezes belie my beliefs
who blindly te busque before I noticed.

The clouds are quickly passing qualms
and our space will only cause storms to surge
because your chasms are slowly clearing,
I only hope the perfect flow between us prevails.