This poem, by McClain Homann, was inspired by the idea of what one might feel, see or think inside of a cloud.

Parachutes

Rising,
On the definition of binding,
Ourselves we began mining,
A certain spirit or fantastic phantasm
– is often a lost finding.

Open the eyes,
To become lost or entwined,
The veil engulfs the seeker,
Terrorized by uncertainty,
The mystery,
Is the formula for an orchestra solving all enigmas.

Waving a hand through the air,
Feels like being clawed by a monster,
That simply isn’t there,
All around is the same question,
A mere reflection of a message.

The suspense bites,
Panic skulks up spines,
I know- it did mine,
And as I know-

Is it to be alone?

But is to be alone,
The greatest endeavor?
When it’s yourself,
You can truly discover?
Oh how I yearn,
For answers to be found.

I’m sure they all can,
To search, to find- to believe,
Is to be inside a cloud.

© McClain Homann