I walk quietly under the azure sky The white cotton clouds holding dreams of promise. Transforming with each passing whisper of time I pause, mesmerized by the illusion, As the clouds darken, twisting into something sinister Foretelling of the maelstrom to come. The sky fractures in grief, As the gods weep a river of sadness Obscuring dreams, flooded with regret If only I had grasped the possibility of the past To create the hope of the future