Clouds

Flying by in broken
Thought. Eagles
soaring just below
thy midst as
ye role sweetly
to the west and
northernly.

Just aft a cooling
storm. Just aft the 
cooling of my
being form gifts
dropping abruptiously 
amongst the heavens.

Perhaps to drowse
another brethren
of man. To give thy
sweet brethren more
good news from
God's abode.

Tell me sweet
grand sea constellation
from which sweet
ocean do ye come?

Great! is the news 
from the Creator
of all. Even from the 
light that some of my
Brethren and i
call the sun.
The Sun. Oh! Great
God in the heavens,
The Son.
piercing thy spaces

Dark sun blocking
mass of dewy
crowning womb-

Yet to give birth
but dropping 
dottedly the 
prophecy of your
dreams. Giving 
new birth to the 
land and all
Earth's inhabitants.

As the Son of man
watches from the
heavenly throne
and from a birds
vantage all is being
seen. Great is this
Eagle soaring as 
peaceful as a
Dove. 

As birds coo soothingly
perched upon the wires
of man. Gusting gale
bringing thunder to
my thoughts and
flashes to my 
mind. Cool drops
and mist whisping
to my unclothed
body and dampening
the cloth.

faithode

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