My clouds

[aquafi]

Dreams come and go
a cloud passing in the wind.
As the hot sun beats down,
the unbreakable begin to bend
and we wonder, what was our sin?

Were we too proud? Should we not have challenged it?
The natural tendency toward chaos?
Was it wrong to hope for relief,
the loss of loss?

Where are my grey skies?
The clouds have dried, they're dead.
Nothing but the sun beating down
and blue skies ahead.