Culminating skylight review.

It was an improper sky
Who's name was Quasar
With many languages pressing against its mellow ears
It fell with a certain oddity, and had no respect for the paradigm
And drowned the ignorant tatuology of the naysayers underneath
It was the father of revolution,
The grand image of change
That says, "if the sky can do it, so we can!"
And they chanted their somber chants and raised their crowd-spun flags
Splattered with black, white and yellow
The sky crowed quietly, with a carmine sort of shiver
And laughed at the utter misenterpretation of its strangeness
It bent inward and fluctuated,
And they responded: "and so the sky does, and so we shall!"
And their crowd-spun flags
Splattered with black, white and yellow
Bent inward and fluctuated and
waved with a shimmering eye towards the sky
And the sky merely sighed
It was just bending its sides
Stretching out its kinks
Taking a break
But this was a change in the tautology,
And offered a different objective
For which the people below now thought was obtainable
But in the wake of its turbulence,
Came winds a hundred miles per hour
That were infuriated by the flags
Speckled with black, white and yellow
The winds grew sharp and honed its precision
While the sky sat bending
Testing its limits
The people shouted below,
"The sky is our savior"
And waved their flags
In a torrent of pressure,
Of heat and of purpose,
The winds blazed past, razing their arms
And burning their hands
They went, determined, straight towards the sky
They cornered the sky
And smiled with the tips of their flames
And liked their lips
And the sky cried,
And the sky limped slightly, with a hint of green in its fabric
They cut through it
And the sky fell, lolloping into heaven
Fitting into place in its permanent afterward
And the people below went back to their graves
And everything as was
Because Quasar was dead.