The ever-morphing clouds. They appear
as one thing, yet in the next moment
they change, ever so slightly. Changing
and changing, moment by moment,
until the one seemingly definite
thing is gone, leaving me bereft of
that glimpse in time, now only a
memory. The clouds are much like
you. One minute a friend, the next
an enemy. The abandoned hope
that you and my cloud will return
harbors in my thoughts.
But I've had my chance to be happy
with both, and now I must relinquish
my claim and let you, and my cloud,
move on. The realization of my
lack of sorrow will hit like a stone,
melting the ground into water,
enveloping the stone and letting it
sink. I can't be sad at the thought of
loss, because my world is thriving with
the severed unification it once held
with yours.