Set to the music “The Fool on the Hill.”
I have become the clouds. No feelings, just expression. They only appreciate in passing. A compliment here, a compliment there, their heads turn back, to the ground. Beautiful, for those that look. But I am not beautiful, its just a point of view. Clouds at night, hidden from everyone. Unable to see no matter how hard you strain. Sadness, happiness, productive. Irrelevant. No one understands the work that goes into forming me. The sun, creating a phase transition of water, condensing back down… I form rain, snow, thunder. Some hate, others love. Emotionless either way. Some fly through, I cling as long as I can. I want them to stay. They don’t even notice how they shape me. How I have responded. Not caring? I am, just a cloud, after all. I will reform. Weather I am alive or not. Most days you can barely see me. On good days, you don’t even notice I am there. When I have a bad day, that is all you can see. But for me, its just another day, one where I share the gift of my tears with you. You wipe them away. Others, absorbed by the dirt. Come sit with me. I can tell no one. I’ve been fog a few times. Down among the living. She doesn’t see the world the way I do. I’m high above, lost in the stratosphere. Failing to notice, how she drifts terrestrial, away from the clouds. Away from me. I search for another, but, their feet are too firmly planted. The beauty of life. Yet, I can’t tell them.