A man shouting at the distant sky:
ridicule the futility of such an act.
Witness untethered anger,
for a cloud begins to pass through.

Hear weeping as the cloud departs,
its loss unnoticed by the sky.
Confused at the insanity displayed,
ignorant to the rhythm of nature.

Mock the one who mocks,
blind to the drifting sky within.
Shed tears for his scattered echoes of frustration,
caught in his own storm, yet unaware of the calm.

Mumbling a prayer,
a man may save his fleeting breath.
Blind to the rhythm nature weaves,
one day, your voice will ride the breeze.