A cloud’s journey
Starts as an invisible presence.
Rising up it takes form,
A form pure and white.
Cloud’s are unfortunate.
They must watch over
Are pathetic lives.
Condemned to watching human nature.
And it is so that they absorb
The qualities that stand out.
They turn gray, and impure.
To save their purity,
And rid themselves of their gray,
They shed tears and slowly disappear.
These tears, fall as pure drops of hope.
With it they hope purify
Those fortunate enough to receive them.
And so I stand in the rain
Cleansing myself.
These tears,
Fall onto my imperfect self,
Absorbing my evils,
Carrying them to the ground.
I am reborn once again.
Thank the rain,
For showering upon us,
Cleansing us. Purifying us.
Thank the clouds.
For they reincarnate
Into that invisible presence,
And repeat the cycle.
Cleanse my spirit, rain.
Meld with my tears,
Fall to the ground.
And leave me pure and smiling.
Falling rain…
