It has occured to me that
Pursuing dreams is much like
Chasing evasive cloud tails.

A fantastic idea, at first
But a treacherous journey awaits
Never immediately captured
But followed at a distance.

Their edges either sharp or blurred
Their moods: capricious
Menacing or inviting
Depending on the day.

The constant wind propels me
Its breath urging me onward
Gentle and encouraging
Harsh and biting.

It whispers alternately
You can, you cannot.
Believing in it seems sketchy
But what other course to the skies?

Some days it moves me so close
To my puffy delights
They seem only a hand's breadth away.
Success is on my tongue.

But then, without warning
My tail skitters away
The wisp escaping my grasp, once again
Yet I keep faith.

It can be done
The impossible achieved
And a triumph taken
Someon has to do it. Why not me?

Now if only I can find a big enough net.