The clouds

I have risen from the ash

dusting myself off to start

scrubbing the nooks of my being

and over time

I will be clean again

Like a lotus flower

Blooming out of mud

becoming the symbol of purity

I come from the mud

desire and hate

searching for the truth

grasping at shiny things

It turns out glass can cut you

Now I crane my neck

as we drive past trees

Staring up at the clouds as I walk

I run into something

and shift back into this reality

This reality that we focus on so much

Planning, speaking, worrying

like the sky wasn’t looking down on you all this time

like the cells of those plants were’t turning the sun into fuel

as you sat in anger over what was said to you

words spoken from the lips of another earthly being

coming from a mind that has not walked your path

I spent so much time wallowing in the mud

not knowing

the clouds were there the whole time