There’s nothing twixt the air and land
and so I stay quite unaware
and though the clouds purport to be
something solid, tangible,
I know they’re simply wake-up calls
calling, calling, calling,
“look up, look up, look at me”.
Perhaps they’re vain and simply are
in need of my admiring stare
but perhaps they’re like an opening
into what lies beyond.
They disappear sometimes to be
cheerleaders on the side-lines
but no participants appear
and of spectators there are none.
So the beyond remains alone
saddened by my absence
and builds up tension deep within
the sphere of immortal love.
I cry sometimes for that beyond
and I cry for me
unwilling now to ere believe
but I hear them still;
they sing to me
of hope’s sure company.
I can close my eyes, not look above,
can still the hope within
but I can’t and simply cannot
ever close my ears!