THE SMALL LONELY CLOUD

By Christian Garner-Munoz

 

I wander the land seas all alone,

flying with the birds and planes, never fitting in.

High above the land and sea

I witness young and old who see each other,

yet no one sees me.

 

I see everything from high above to down below,

but am never noticed.

I look at growing cities and the dying land.

The sun exposes dark, and light displays the beauty.

 

High up alone, I sail the sky day in and day out.

Searching for the meaning of seeing,

I have no voice to speak.

I use the wind to carry on, and to breathe again.

Direction is found not from below but from the starry sky.

 

When I find the route,

home is near and bright.

Home is neither land nor sea.

It is the breeze.