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