The shapes of clouds

Photo by Szabó Viktor from Pexels

Clouds form into everything

Their thick spectacle 

rolling over 

and ending in a whim

Whispers, wisps 

Bathing in pink skies

Just being

Wind carries the day

The cumulus meets the planet’s stories

A world of such beauty

To be in it 

Is to maybe 

Understand the least

Never the same twice

Yet with comforting repetition

A dome of events

A celestial ball holds

Clouds move 

Through the sky

Never the same twice

And yet,

Comfortingly familiar

Then there are storms

Storms which fill the air

And act out their inevitability

Storms which make you forget

You were once safe

And you will be again

Again and

Until the peaceful clouds return, we dream them


Upon what storm

Does better news arrive

When the sun shines

And the neighbourhood is quiet

You can hear the noise

The noise the clouds make

As they fold into eachother

Hiding the solid

We thought 

Was not there

Clouds never repeat themselves


Clouds pass in front of the sunset

Never the same again

Pink skies

Hold all the 

Dreams of the day

That something so pretty

Can be turning over

Such sadness 

And glowing

That’s the thing

Ⓒ Niliema Karkhanis

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