The Wandering Cloud

Dressed mostly in black and white,
I am just another wandering cloud,
I am, sometimes, wild within,
And wild sometimes without.

I am that wandering cloud, my friend,
Who brought with it memories,
Some real, some inexistent.
For lovers and haters, alike
For adults and children, alike.
Making everyone feel empty yet content.

I am that wandering cloud,
Dear Sparrow, don’t worry;
For my poor existence is subject to a flurry.
When I shower blessings divine,
Really will the sprouts entwine
To offer a cushion to your babies
Helping them with cozy draperies.

I am that wandering cloud
O Soul, the resolute.
Beware, albeit
You can’t keep me under siege,
For I remain a roamer,
Acting upon my will.
A few things, like my soul,
Must only be felt with
And, not be dealt with.

But, above all,
I am that wandering cloud,
O Lord, for the hands that
Sowed in despair once,
Raise up to You,
Rejoicing upon my sight,
Thanking you and making merry.
The same hands had once
Attended to the days
That brought with them
Scorching heat and light.