We often watch the clouds gambolling in the sky and our imagination weaves the clouds into shapes. Some clouds appear like little kittens playfully snarling the yarn or others like a witch on a broomstick or like an angel with a magic wand or like a pigtailed girl playing hopscotch. These imaginary beings people my poem and bring me out of my reverie.
Under the azure canopy I sit, bewildered and torn,
Staring with sightless eyes at clouds that drift from eve to morn.
The tragedy of a life spent chasing dreams of fluff,
Was writ large on every spike and trough.
I gazed into the depths of the sky,
Seeking to discover the reason why
Life painfully drags and trails, by and by.
Suddenly a whimsy brushed playfully past,
Chasing the gloom away by its elfish cast.
It made me laugh, it made me smile
As I saw clouds frolic with childlike guile.
Out with the whimsy, my inner voice rapped aloud,
I paused, I tarried then pondered about.
A fluffy candy or
A rotund dandy
Kittens that gambol or
Pups that ramble
A magical unicorn here
Or a pretty pony there.
A pigtailed girl playing hopscotch with dainty feet
An exotic bird dancing to a tweet.
The silhouette of a mystic with a lotus stance,
Gazing at a world of strife
With wisdom in his glance
The Mystic with the curly hair and eyes so pure,
Beckons with an open hand so sure
The white swathe with Buddha-like sinews,
My faith in mankind renews.
Death and pain, they matter not,
Loss and gain appear battles ill fought
Under the azure canopy I sit, unruffled and serene at last,
At peace and in harmony with the world and my past.