A trip to the distant cloud leaving the world behind.
Far from the common place, where this world does not exist.
Desire to travel becomes the all, consuming passion of the waking self.
Anywhere but here is the daily mantra of the soul ready to move along.
The past asks for its given due, pity the beggar of life's betrayal.
The present is all there is, the future is assumed not to be.
Permission given by words not said, lapses when attention is turned.
Hindsight will have its place when the gaps are realized at last.
Beware the bouncing ball not seen, it rolls towards the clouds.
The slope is slight at first it seems, the cliff hidden in the haze.
Disagreements fade to the black, selfishness has found its place
in the realm of hopeless vanity is the haze of irresponsibility.
Sanity has left the stage, fickle companion at the best
now seeking another way, lost in the woods of the mind.
Tools are the guiding hand be they small or they large.
Instruments required at the start, cursed in vain at the end.
Solitary is the final verdict of the passenger leaving alone.
No accompaniment is at hand for the last departure in this life.
A trip to the distant cloud is the reward found at last.
A pity we cannot not all go when peace is an orphan left.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160301.