Tell me, whether wisps of cloud
may be brought down by hand
and added to my collection of dreams.
I had bottled the wind in my heart,
but she blew no more,
as the light died, that my eyes captured,
the moment the lids were closed.
I have tried so long
to build a heaven in my heart's chambers;
I'd forgotten where I placed the door.
"Step outside," I hear the voice now:
the cry of that wind,
the shining of that light.
They forgive me, and call me out,
and even that cloud
cries no more.
