The faces of clouds have decided to frown today. Their stares mimic the waves of the sea.(Forgetting is a way of turning from a crumpled memory. Hope as a blue sky is like reading blank pages; nothing to read is as to a cloudless sky.)
Nimbus inhales and holds his breath. He assembles a revelry committed to his vanishing. His purpose, a phoenix of the sky.
Engrossment. Momentary adherence. Letting go. The unavoidable cycle.
I am the clouds. You are the sea. You keep on coming back to me. I keep on letting go.
Mark 1 :19
...He called out to them, and they left their father Zebedee in the boat and went off after Him
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