Clouds as Lover

I woke up this morning, and when I walked outside, I was shocked. The strangest thing happened. You see, I walked outside, and remained inside. How?

My view is the same as it always is, day-to-day. Same blue grass, same trees. Same prized, enormous pile of dirt. My ears did not ring, the way outdoor ears ring. They did not hear the space, the way open space sings. I never panicked, I wasn’t startled, as I usually am. The spark in my chest that burns through every corner of my body, dimmed. My keen awareness, my supercharged “spidey-sense”, muted.

I look around, confused. Why am I not panicked? Much more confused; why am I aroused? I was remarkably comfortable, for someone with anxiety. This momentary comfort I suppose reminded me of my partner. Let’s say that, because the alternative is harder to grasp.

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These are the actual clouds I met. No stock clouds here

I’m in love with the clouds? They are my protector. They hold me, their bosom is buxom. They soften the impenetrable rays of the sun, I am caressed by them. They whisper to me, sweet nothings. They lead me astray; disorient me, bewitch me. They offer me shelter, ease my pain. Mist me with their love, their energy. Moist, sweet, soft love, soothing my skin.

I’ve spoken with clouds before, some of the most memorable moments of my life. A Smoky mountain sunrise on Mt. Leconte is enough for most souls to weep. This morning, however was not the same. These clouds were different. These clouds listened. Clouds with empathy, clouds with understanding. They listened so intently, they made me nervous with their stillness. Was it something I said, cloud?

I hope I didn’t offend them. I fear I harshed their mellow, downed their debby. These clouds are my savior, and they are fading away before my eyes. How could I be optimistic, watching my lover, my savior evaporate?

I will miss them when they’re gone. The afternoon is coming soon.

Till we meet again, clouds…

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