Low-Rising Cloud

I pity you, low rising cloud— caught between the earth and the sky. High enough to see the world, just for your body to block its light.
You drift above rooftops— over streets, over fields— a shadow in motion. Always seeing, But never feeling.
The other clouds laugh above you. They play in the wind’s wild currents, but you cannot join them. Too low, too grounded, too burdened to dance.
Funny enough, the people look up at you: gaze upward, smile, marvel at your presence. praise your grace, your style, your difference.
but you cannot hear them.
Too high to feel their eyes, too low to be free, trapped between admiration and the emptiness of distance.
You exist to cast a shadow You cannot fill.
to shade, to hover to touch, to block, but never to bask. never to belong. never to rise.