Inside a cloud's foggy embrace, a mind can be at peace. The weightless shelter is creamy and surreal. One views life through a pleasant haze of smoky white purity. Breath comes freely from within a cloud. The air is purged of the social element, filtered out by numinous cloud layers.
Clouds float lethargically on the upper wind's gentle back, carried by its whimsical wiles, and never worse for the wear. Inside a cloud, one is at peace with transience. Most importantly, one comprehends his own undeniable atomic structure and its inevitably persistent breakdown.
People often mistakenly assume that the darker, rain-laden clouds are angry, but this is untrue. These people have been socialized in the old stale, conventional storybook style. What appears as anger to the layman are the mournful peals issuing from the clouds' teary throats. Take off your hats and display respect for those at the core of the darkest clouds. The men and women within lead legendary and profound lives.
I couldn't tell you what color my cloud is at present. The best meteorologists are indignantly baffled by it. All I can say is this: I am in love with my cloud, and I am searching for another cloud of equal temperament to merge with. Who can tell whether or not this aimless, drifting way of searching will be fruitful? Oh, the gambling whim of the winds that toy with man's fate!
Look to the world's ceiling this dusky evening and you may see my cloud galloping blindly across the atmosphere's bluish skyscape, wings outstretched and forever breathing.
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2 comments:
Whoa, nelly! I just loves me some BCL blogging.
Your only fan,
KJB
The cloud is your head. Your head is your cloud. Is the dark gloomy color not anger but activity and youth. A man once said and i cant remember who but they said, "youth is often wasted by the young". Are you not just a young cloud begging to pour your thoughts out onto this world. Ryan Mooney you are truly talented cloud.
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