The sky is such a bright white

Everything is so stark against a backdrop of brilliant grey

When the day is ended, you feel as if it never really begun

Only tried to for ten hours

Then gave up back into the sweet smoke of dark

Desperate to show off a sunset

Clouds weren’t meant for midday

They were meant to catch the colours of an ending

And a beginning

Canvasses for a happening

reflecting the energy of something brighter

and isn’t it funny then that clouds are water

vapour puff puddles in the sky

maybe we, then

bodies of water

are to clouds as we are to oceans

maybe we,

beings of wave

squeezing ourselves through cups of language

rivers of glass

till we meet at the sea

silent in vastness

maybe we meet in the sky also

in the ebb and flow and reflect

in the condensing and the letting go

in rain

and in salt

and becoming a drop again, fresh

light enough to  float

evaporate out of the depths

and be collected

in the bright white

desperate to show off a sunset


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