Beneath Open Skies

From the quiet halls of Kyoto’s old library, A tale of friends, once close, now lost. They spoke of loyalty, of bonds that never break, Yet in the shadows, they let their masks fake. In joy they cheered, in sorrow they did fade, When storms arrived, it’s then the truth was made. For those who claimed to be the closest, true, Were the ones who wished for my skies to stay blue. But not with joy—they feared my rise, In every triumph, saw their own demise. Success was distant in their bitter gaze, And in my happiness, they saw only haze. The seasons turned, as all things do, Time revealed what I never knew. Their hands were cold, their words were lies, But I’ve learned to soar beneath open skies. Now I stand alone, but not in despair, Better solitude than false friends who don’t care. For in this quiet, I’ve found my peace, With every step, my joy does increase. So here’s to success, to walking my way, Without the weight of those who lead me astray. For life, in truth, is richer and pure, When your heart is strong, and your soul is sure.