I sit on a cloud with not a clue what to do.

Watching the formicarium that is our lives,

as we scurry and shuffle through weaving roads 

to places where work is never told: "please hold".

I sit on a cloud to notice.

Our years never shedding like the skin of a snake;

only being layered upon layer

for the time we have slithered through life.

I sit on a cloud to watch my sun set.

The blurred horizon is my mind,

confused in the debate to keep chasing sunrays

or fall into nights' tranquility.

I sit on a cloud with not a clue what to do

when I want to do everything and nothing at all.