The Clouds

The thick floating clouds
rainless, far away, 
the agents of obstruction 
to sunlight
moonlit night, 
just like the floating thoughts 
of past, 
inconsistent
inconsequential 
abstract 
but not without strings 
of mementos, 
the slow silent movements of 
clouds often
prolonging the hide-and-seek pains.
The clouds become sometimes tears, 
even now, 
with roaring thunders, 
shivering lightning.
Evaporation 
craves to orphan 
the gone but unforgettable syndrome 
or embrace a better consumption pattern of the present, the now, 
to overpower the faded canvas, 
to invite a soothing past tomorrow 
or a friendly cloud 
much later!


Kamakhya