To be, or not to be…
That has always been the question. To move, or not to move, that has been mine. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a cloud. Formless and unattached I could travel the world, watching the land and the sea as they drift by. I would be untouchable, invinceable. Left to my own devices I would freely wander the wind, exploring every inch of the world. I would creep through the wooded hills, letting my fingers fill every nook and crack. I could lift my self high, until I could see every living person. I would coast next to the airplanes, watching as the try to immature me. I would be the harbendger of storms, or the herald of the morning. But the one thing I could never do, is rest. But to be a moutain. Silent and tall, enduring the rain and the wind and the snow. I could have the power of a beast, and the gentleness of a flower. I could sleep for a thousand years, or I could change my shape with the seasons. I would stand watch as the world went by. Watching cities rise and fall, watching good men do great deeds and evil men vanquished. I would watch the end of the world, and I would watch the Earth begin again. And still I would remain. However, the one thing I could never do, is move.
