Tuesday, April 26, 2005

The Cloud

Out in the desert stood a young fragile weed,
suffocating from the searing air of despair.
She thirsts for hope, for the water of life,
and patiently awaits her redemption.

Over the sky, a cloud passes near.
nature and pride has brought him to this place.
with the leverage of life he passes along,
drifting and floating nigh.

The young weed sees this noble giant
and meekly calls out his name.
Oh cloud! you are made of what i crave,
please extend your compassion to me!

"Why should i waste my gifts upon you," said the cloud,
"As if you are worthy of my remedy?"
My fruit is for the roses, who live past the mountain
And your place is out here in the sand.

And the cloud, gently swayed by the currents of guilt,
as he crested the mountainous ledge.
With the glimpse of the roses and a weed far away,
he felt the humidity of his heartbreak.

He returns to the spot of the heat and the sand,
of abandoned prayers and broken wings,
as he outstreched his arms out and supplied his truth,
he called out to the most worthy of all.

Wake up! It's me!
I have brought your salvation and joy!
But the young weed, she could not recieve his gifts,
As she lay, wilted in the sand.

6 comments:

catherine said...

very beautiful.

freckle fish said...

I pray to some god that I have the strength to accept his gift.

freckle fish said...

Thank you for commenting on my less meaningful creations. After reading your work I am inspired to post some of my more "real" writings. You'll have to check back every so often and lend me your thoughts. Your words feel like my own. We must share some similarities of the soul. A tiny part of me has found peace. . .thank you.

Gratification through despair said...

Inspiration:

My father used to tell me old spanish tales, similar to the moral in Aesop's Fables. I remember listening in awe as we would sit in his recliner, sipping on cognac, while reciting these stories in perfect Spanish.

The most memorable "moral" that he told me was to extend compassion to those who need it, and not let my pride get in the way. Because If I ignore them, and feel guilty, it may be too late to give.

Then, after a brief pause, he said... It's like a cloud that ignores a weed for the roses.

This poem was written on the 7th anniversary of his passing.

Autrice DelDrago said...

Very nicely done, and the moral of the story is one we should all take to heart.

R's Musings said...

What great fatherly wisdom and tribute through your poetry. Beautitful.