thick vapors dark plumes converge overhead into overcast sculptures. their massive amorphous shapes altering and modifying according to the winds, to the pull of the moon, to the lean of our axis.
we crane our necks atilt skywards, and see our own brand of hopeful gloom residing in the weather. the smell in the air is dank earth and body heat lingering along the ground.
there are no clear lines where the swelter from our bodies and the torridity of the atmosphere become enmeshed. for a short period of time, we are all a part of everything.
in the distance and along the long trail of this elemental mass, a single bold golden ray shines through the shades of gray, defiant of gasses and all other aerial impasses. this lone rejuvenating beacon delivers to us a powerful message of hope in the presence of potential doom.
i am reminded that doom is relative, sadness is relative, signs of hope and anticipation are relative, and everything carries with it a certain lovely weight. the scales are always on a teeter, tremulous and wobbly, aching for understanding.
find an empathy for someone with an opposing view. even an attempt at understanding each other has to have an origin.