Clouds drifting down the pathways of doubting people.
Wanting to shower upon everyone below, yet not having
any water in their bellies, dried beyond comprehension
from a drought of major proportions.
Standing alone, hoping for a gust of wind to fly to
tornado absolutes, just to push them forward where
they'll be on their own again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem