I am a cloud.

My being is from many things,
Rivers, streams, oceans, lakes, They all make

A cloud.

As I grow,
I rise and pass the treetops, the birds, and even higher than the towering mountains.
I rise above the whole world, looking down upon it.
I wonder why I'm here.
Why I'm different from the rocks,
And the trees.
Why I'm different from the mountains
And the plains.
Why I had to be what I am -

A cloud.

As I gather bits and pieces of me,
From everywhere on Earth,
I can't hold myself together.
I am falling.
I fall
into pieces,
Which scatter far and wide.
From everywhere I came from,
I return to Reality,

Broken.

My world is crashing down,
But no one cares,
Because all I am is

A cloud

The normal everyday thing that is simply seen in the sky.
I gather no interest.
As my shattered ramains pitter-patter against windows,
I finally shudder
to a stop.

I am still.

As the darkness is slowly illuminated, I can only do one thing.
Slowly,
I rise,
Once more.
I am

A cloud.

I begin the never ending cycle of falling and picking myself up.
I have but one thought-
Will I ever stay up high in the sky?
And not fall apart every time I get up?

But,
Though a cloud,
I realize the truth.

I will always fall.
And I will always get back up.
I am an endless cycle.

I am

-But a simple

Cloud.