The gift of time.

The sky is a blanket,
keeping us warm, or cold
something controlled.
Penetrated by its razor arrows,
or washed by its tears so narrow.
To look,
you'll be amazed.
To hate,
you'll be erased.
Just concentrate, open and wide.
and listen to its present
the gift of time.
Now the secrets out
we are under its power.
More guided than controlled
you'll discover
what's in deep.
That time simply repeats.