Wander The Sky

Sometimes I watch the moon and its veil of clouds. Riding in and out of vision, like a thought surfacing in a foggy mind. I wonder what it would be like to wander the sky, shifting from sight. The stark, still moon contrasts the hazy, hovering clouds. I suppose the two simulate morals versus thoughts; we try to keep our ethics in order, while our minds whizz with hopes. The wind whispers possibilities and the ground restores balance. The trees ache outwards and the rain pushes inward. The constant strain and tension fill the natural world as it does our minds. Our external bodies expand outwards and our minds expand inwards, perhaps infinitely. Perhaps the rain is infinite. Each tear-shaped drop, another memory, hope, or will. Each shatters into the rough ground, insuring balance, insuring we don't lose ourselves and float towards the moon. Because no one can know what it is like to wander the sky, shifting from sight.