A Clear Sky

A poem

The passage of time 

is etched in the clouds.

Slowly progressing with the

river, drowning the moon

until it rises and breathes again. 

The moon shows its face, 

its true self, but on occasion. 

It hides within the clouded

mind of the sky. 

It breaks its light faintly through,

as if afraid to show its potential.

The passage of time 

is etched in the clouds. 

Revealing, and hiding, all day

and all night. 

Masking itself until one day

its ready for a clear sky.