“We Have Pulled the Clouds Under Our Heads”

If we hadn’t plenty to think with,

If our houses had legs of their own,

If we walked terribly higher than our dreams,

Our positions in life no loftier than patched hopes,

And since pain partakes of our apportioned lessons,

And creating assists our feet to move,

We have reached our predestined ends,

We have held these fingers tightly to their mirrored hand,

If wings awaited no man’s maintenance,

If hearts claimed their right to life,

If our people skills matched our personal desires,

Our ability to touch minds so much more than our awareness of our own,

And since buttons have climbed these partitioned sentences,

And following mere words can appropriate the spirit,

We have shifted these faults and laid waste to tremulous rivers,

We have scraped the sky and pulled the clouds under our heads,

So when do we dread these columns locked in place?

When do we fear what has been piled on top, imprisoning us?

When do we realize that decisions have no avenue to take, but are all already made?

Populate the heavens with flocks of snow,

Let the ground spring with wet comfort,

And rest your head upon its cloud.