Clouds

Sometimes I can see it. Uncounted lights, floating in black space. Each light is different, some dance and caper, joyous and uncontained. Others are slow and quiet, winking to deep rhythms of the ancients. The colors are all gold, and all perfectly the same. But you can tell ones glow apart from another, like different memories of the same place. I claim to see it.

That's my first lie.

I can only imagine one or two, maybe ten or even a hundred. But they stretch on forever. Absolutely endless, and forever. Moving in 4 dimensions, there is no end to the Clouds. They reach out to each other with filaments of the finest silk thread. Even the thickest strands look like they would blow away on the breeze, but they stand so strong. So strong some can never be broken, strong as the lights themselves. Strong enough to circumvent time. Each plus is rebounded. Each flash is answered, but never the same way. Energy moves around the Clouds, building and releasing. Each Starsoul touches these pulses and changes it, makes it it's own.

That's my second lie.

Its all one thing, Light, putting on a show. Each can change the plus of life, but they are all the same thing. Memories of memories. Their cores are one. Trace each nexus back to its beginning. It is shared by all. But the Dance of Souls is oh so beautiful to watch. Slowly at first, I can see some of it. Faster and faster I comprehend the shifts, the flickers and the pulses. Soon its like a buzzing sound, but in pictures. Sometimes I even see this little me. I watch myself reach out and touch other Lights. I feel myself in the cloud.

That's my third lie.

I can feel the cloud. All of it, every last photon. But not myself in it. There is nothing to feel. I can only see myself from elsewhere in the Cloud. Then its not me feeling anymore. Seeing is one thing, watching the connections, sighing and singing. Its another thing to feel the pixel that is me. I've yet to find myself in the Cloud, but I'm not actually looking. I'm just this little bulb, abandoned and trapped among countless others.

That's my forth lie.

I am not the pixel on the giant TV screen. I am the electricity that runs through it. I am that which makes it glow every so brightly. Just as every charged electron has its moment of radiance, we get to express our move in the Dance of Souls. Just as every charged electron has to return to the power station, we all get to go home. But the power remains on. And the show must go on.

Low grey Clouds on a rainy Sunday afternoon, watched from warm in bed out a frosted window. That is maybe all there is, Clouds.