When the Clouds Speak

We aren't always gloomy.

Yes, we are tufts of cotton blanketing the Heavens that darken in fits of rage from time to time. But we're only trying to get your attention.

You fill our home land with noxious gases and

expect us to sit in peace with the skies while

you ride high on supposed cloud nines.

We take in your secondhand smoke and spew it back down.

We're only trying to get your attention.

 

We are Heaven's canvas, shaped into meaning

by the electricity in your brain.

The pure definition of imagination.

We are what you make of us: A dinosaur,

a kite, and whatever more.

We just want to get your attention.

 

Now that you're looking up at us,

how high, would you say, are your dreams?

Land, tree, or cloud high?

None of the three, I hope.

 

Why, I hope your dreams are beyond the clouds.

Don't dream after things that aren't big like the

God you serve.

Even the word big is

itself

so

small.

 

We're only trying to get your attention so you can look past us.

 

We shroud the sun, yes, but she will

always peek through like slivers of light under

the lids of a dream-casting sleeper.

Cast your dreams while awake now.

We are only wisps of air but we are beautifully that:

Wisps of air with each tendril arranged

gorgeously into place.

 

It is not wrong that we recognize that we are beautiful-

we refuse to wait on anyone else to figure it out first.

We will rain on all people and pronounce our

presence right here, right now.

We are terrifyingly gorgeous, and we see that

beauty reflected in you. And oh-

look, there is another one! And another!

 

Those are dreams, I'd like to believe, reaching past

our domain into the beyond.

Maybe now, it seems, that we've gotten your attention.

 

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"Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him" Isaiah 64:4 NIV.

 

Keep believing, Little One.

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