So much depends on the clouds that hover above your head,
So much so,
They're covered in dread.
So much depends on the observer,
What do you see?
What do you wish and pray and yearn to see?
What beauty is this?
With gray hair and white eyes,
What do you see?
The clouds high above your head,
Etched forever into the infinite dark blue murderous sky,
Lightening crashes,
Thunder rolls,
Tears rain down from the heavens,
and you say,
So much depends on the clouds.