The cloud I see is me,

Death swayed around it,

Lingering freely,

A throne which would forever sit,

Its arms stretch and bend,

Shadows curl and twist,

A crown without end,

A fleeting shape I cannot resist,

It drifts through the sky,

Silent, vast, and deep,

I reach with a sigh,

For secrets the wind will keep,

A mirror of thought,

A weightless, drifting trace,

Lessons quietly taught,

Reflected in its endless space.