All the angles

“A house made of glass and steel, looks so modern, it’s hard to feel, but there is something there, if you care to touch it“ Gun Roswell

All the angles

Staring up into the skies, all the angles just to spy, the structure above my head, made out of steel but mostly, glass, scary in a way, as if broken it would be made, all the shards cutting through, whatever soft things they would fall upon.

But worry not, the structure is quite solid, even if staring at it would be for hours on end, nothing will be dropping down on your face, so enjoy the odd structure made to see right through, as it certainly is something special for the right kinds of views.

Skies Reflected


“Look up! See the clouds, now check again. Where does the sky end? Or is it all, a simple reflection?” Gun Roswell 

Skies reflected 

The clouds gathered

Onto the lower skies

Simply getting reflected 

Wherever the glass lies

Be careful though 

As the winds may blow

Shifting the position 

Constantly without hesitation 

The eyes might be very slow

To adjust to the very flow

And so

The illusion between 

The real and the make believe 

Will get fuzzy enough to leave 

The current onlooker 

In a bit of a confusion 

And so loosing the sense

Of any kind of reality 

Seeing the truth uncanny 

And so being fooled

By total fantasy

But hey

It is all good

Just have to know

Which way to look

Bridged over the skies

“There are roads up there, bridges, built on top of thin air, hanging just there in the skies” Gun Roswell

Bridged over the skies

They built them, way back when, out of stones, bricks, whatever they could find, just because they wanted to, reaching for the skies, for divinity, or at least, that is the theory, for us in the here and now, looking up there, at the skies, where the bridges we can spy, built by those who dared to dream, that there was more out there, than could be seen, by the naked eye, even if open wide.