The sky is open and welcoming; The cloud turns it into a moving news: Stories about floating hopes, Of time lost in a whimsy, About time-waiting hopelessness, Hanging on a thin line—the divide Between rising aspirations And declining expectations. As aspiration yearned into moonlight, Hours before the coming dawn, Fresh with expectations Wrapped around every living thing, Everything breathing but gasping For fresh overconfident air. “Don’t ask me how fresh”, But everything felt it, took...