Left in the abyss, parched on the top
You and me, me and you
I find in you, what you find in you
I find in me, what no one does
You see in colors what i seek in colors
I seek in me what no one does
You hear in the storm, the beauty of the wrath, i
hear in the storm the wrath of the beauty
I hear in me, what no one does
You seek in you, the inner you
I seek in you, you
I seek in me, what no one does
You seek in me, so you find in me
So you hear in me, so you see in me
Naught else but You
What a fancy thing is it. The blue sky—roaring blue sky. And clouds. Gosh so many clouds. Clouds represent people sometimes. Wandering about. Drifting about. Like vapors. Except much larger and much far off.
Clouds were solace. Are solace. When wind comes to blow away memories that one wants to hold on to. Clouds are a solace. They don’t stop it from happening. But their being there up above in a manner which nothing else can afford–does nothing more than give one hope that memories can never be just taken away by a simple wind..because memories are kept within a person, and no matter how weak he is, he can still hold on to them. Because they are like a thread which keeps him sane.
Clouds are a comfort. In rains. Rains that you wish would never stop. They tell you that there is more to come. Rains that you want to stop. Then the clouds just silently drift away silently…far away.
Clouds. Ha. Clouds are hope in the sun. Up in the sky. they tell you that in the sun–they can hold on to themselves. An entire vapor. Which can float in the sky…and face the sun. They tell you to never let go.
Clouds are strange. They are many things. Many moods. Many feelings.
When clouds collide! Only then there is something close to a stormy situation. There is noise. But follows it–silence.
Just like you and me. We linger. And we drift. We stand. We hold on. We try not to let go. We meet. We collide. We silently drift away. We collide again. We become one.
And on a clear sky–the blue wonderful intense sky. Upon which an eagle takes its sole flight. Hovers. There are dispersed a thousand millions vapors. Holding onto each other. In the form of a cloud, or many clouds. Moving, lingering–drifting. Breaking the silence. Making the silence.
And then they collide. They bond.
And amidst all the clouds. You were there. And i was there. And we kept drifting. Until we became one. That was a long time ago. We’ll keep drifting. Until we become one–again.
When clouds collide. There comes with it rage. And anger. And passion. And follows it–peace and finally silence.
When clouds collide. A beautiful catastrophe.
