About Clouds

I thought I saw your face,
just like in my dreams,
but it was just a cloud,
only a memory it seems.

Now the rain is falling down,
and I am wondering,
just
thinking out loud
about clouds…
and how…
if I pulled them from the sky,
down to the ground,
if I wore them like a gown
would I finally be
like you;
would I be pretty too?

I am thinking,
about clouds,
and how
if I could,
I would float to you now,
letting go
this mortal shroud,
still filled with pride,
yet no longer quite so proud,
not quiet but
no longer quite so loud,
wings, feathers out,
no longer tethered down
to the ground,
as a dove who
flies above,
through with
fake dates and self-hate,
to make space for grace, love,
elevate,
escape from fate, worn,
shape to which I cannot relate,
new form reborn,
like drapes at the temple gates,
torn,
no
time and space,
lines on face,
not restrained
but still feel held,
no arms but still embraced.

in this place,
no
distance, objects,
nothing left between,
no sounds, no bounds,
no light
sight unseen,
no need for words like
“you” or “me”,
not even “we”,
such distinctions extinct
a distant memory,
as it is, so it shall be,
as clouds,
as water,
rivers, oceans, seas,
flowing together,
knowing forever;
as above,
so beneath.