We Are The Arms Of Cloud

We are the arms of cloud
pushing in grating tumble,
a clatter of fish, a choir of bright
times, snaking a silver future
over the dark treacle of tomorrow,
cloaking its bitter scent with
the glitter of sweet stars.

We shine, raising our torches
to share, with hope,
mad optimism, the religion of
our obsessions made manifest.

We are the lost, set to find you,
a marmalade of child-smiles,
to prove your worth,
to inspire and surprise,
to tidy the smashed, generate
the divine from the tragedy
of living.

We are here to beacon,
to point the way
towards a prickle of snowglist,
to reveal the doorway
to a better day.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.