Those clouds of life, how they gather near,
Carrying whispers of joy and fear.
Billowing dreams in the vast unknown,
Soft as a sigh, or sharp as a stone.
In silver hues, they cradle the sun,
A promise of light when the shadows run.
Yet in their grey, a storm may brew,
A tempest fierce, or a gentle dew.
They drift on winds both wild and still,
Over valleys deep and the steadfast hill.
Some bring sorrow, a heavy rain,
A torrent of tears, a season of pain.
But others weave in the azure sky,
Shaped like laughter, as they float by.
They are the canvas of hope's embrace,
Each streak of gold a radiant trace.
For clouds, though fleeting, paint the way,
A mirror of night, a herald of day.
They speak of change, of paths untread,
Of dreams unspoken, of words unsaid.
Those clouds of life, with their shifting form,
Teach us to dance through the fiercest storm.
To see in darkness the light concealed,
And in each drop, the strength revealed.
When life grows heavy and skies turn dark,
Look to the clouds for a fleeting spark.
For even in thunder, their beauty remains,
In cascading hues or the softest strains.
Those clouds of life, so vast, so wide,
Are the journeys we take, the tears we've cried.
Yet in their dance, there lies a truth,
Each shadowed sky renews our youth.
So let them gather, let them soar,
For the clouds of life are forevermore.
