You can't look at it, and if you look at it you can't see it. The thing that was Skygarden radiates a kind of light that, rather than illuminating things, just sort of makes them more upsetting. Its silhouette against the sky twists and writhes. In fact, even if you're facing in the other direction, with a solid wall between you, you can feel it there on the horizon, writhing.
Someone flew an airship too close to it. Where that airship passed, there is now a tree, planted on the ocean floor and spreading its branches in the stratosphere. Parts of it are on fire. Its oily black bark bubbles and squirms. Cancerous lumps swell on its branches, and sometimes they break free and plop tsunamically into the ocean.
Anyway, how's your day going?