Lost in the middle,
I searched for a sign.
I looked up at the sky,
The clouds were there, as if mine.

I continued glaring at them,
It made me feel a little better.
They moved without a clem,
So gracefully, my grieves began to shatter.

But then I felt a chill inside me,
Oh! Are they telling something to me?
"No, you're imagining"
"No, it's not imagination"
I began to search deeper,
But it was hard.
Then I thought of feeling without my eyes
And yes, they were looking wise.

It formed a pattern,
A smile maybe.
I replied with another one.
I kissed them goodbye,
Seeing them go.

One day again,
I felt low enough.
I wanted to shout
But I heard someone else.

I looked up,
It was the clouds.
Grey and dull with anger
Steaming up with those,
It thundered.
I smiled and screamed with it.
But then, it started crying.
I was then astounded,
That for so many years,
I read those water cycles, which were wrong.

Now that I understand them,
It was their moods.
Their kind of storytelling,
And expressing their views.

Sometimes they beam,
And tell us to do the same.
But sometimes they grieve,
With reasons only they would know.
Still they teach us that
Smile when you need to
And scream when you want to
'Cause it's okay,
It's our 'nature'.