A cloud of dreamy consciousness floats somewhere in my mind,
lots of staggered patterns of time and space left far behind.
Little droplets..with a little history huddled in each,
secrets of the universe...all within their reach.
Its just the precise pattern of light that must from the heavens glow,
for the disclosure and alignment of the seven colors of the rainbow.
Till then, mostly silence prevails in the inner reaches of the dense ,
Every day leaves it marks somewhere on the outside..each with a subtle reference.
Floating in this continuum of time and space
each moment is a like a frozen bit of realization
Despite the uncertainty, there is a definite grace
with which the cloud assimilates each new agglomeration
I am a distant observer, I do not bring the rain,
I do not form its patterns, I do not cry with it in pain..
We are a disjoint set..yet we seem the same,
Our paths are interestingly arranged, in the grander scheme.
I sometimes wonder...what lies in the reach of this cloud,
Does it try to speak to me...is the outside world too loud?
I also think of all the clouds that have ever been,
Some which 'rain-washed' ignorance, some whose rains were never seen.
What makes the cloud happy..what does it keep on thinking?
In the days of insignificance that it has...what chains of drops does it keep linking?
A perfect crystallization of an abstract thought, could it ever insinuate ?
What of significance and importance in the larger scheme of things..could it ever procreate?
The cloud is innocuous...does it know of possibilities ?
Can it for itself understand its identity...its burden of responsibilities?
What does the cloud think of the 'everyday' drops..and what of the drops of deep thought,
Each one with their own significance, each one sometimes wanted and sought..
I sometimes get so puzzled..that I mumble out aloud..
The eternal mystery of myself..my questions to "the cloud"
The cloud :)