“There cannot be a single thing which is not cloud. Cathedrals have it in that tree of boulders and stained glass with Bible myths that time will soon erase.
The Odyssey contains it, changing like the sea, distinct each time we open it. Your mirrored face already is another face that blinked in day, our dubious labyrinth of space. We are the ones who leave. The multiple cloudbank dissolving in the dropping sun draws images of us. Ceaselessly will the rose become another rose.
You are the cloud, the sea, you are oblivion, and you are whom you’ve lost, now very far.”