I turn my head up
in this comely breezy night.
A heard of clouds slowly drifting
towards their destination.
This puff of air touches my face
with utter tenderness.
And along moves this heard
through the spherical road way.
Not for a second they stop,
and all I hear is the stillness of a lake,
or this silence of the night.
All floating with a never ending symphony.
Where did they come from?
What secrets do they hold?
Where do they end?
No Nostradamus can foresee
but, can only predict.
The ultimate ravage they bring,
Or the message of peace.
The journey stops, and begins again.
Change in state, form is the same.
Such a miracle of life, explained
year after year, day after day.
Look at this beauty and feel
this magnetic force of nature.
Heaven don’t have to be
after death, I see.
Just look up the sky and realize,
the protection from the darkness beyond.
Such elegance that can only be seen
But cannot be heard!
I slowly turn my head up again,
in this silent night.