Touching the clouds

When you look out the window of a plane

you see possibility

you see hopes and dreams in the clouds' forms

soft and fluffy

there,

but not quite there

near,

but so far away

so impossible to step out of the plane and step on it

for it is impossible to tread on people's wants and desires

because they are not solid

not liquid

more like a dense gas

looking like stuffing and whipped egg whites

delicate and fluffy like meringues

melting on your tongue like cotton candy

love and hope and happiness

but not chaotically so;

joyous, but still calm and relaxed

composed

as the hopes and dreams of humanity float across the sky

and as you sit in the uncomfortable plane seats

staring longingly out the window

to what cannot be grasped by the human hand

the fruit too far up the tree to reach

the constant struggle to reach the stars

and hold them in your palm

the impossible feat of dancing through the clouds

the mere thought like sugar melting in your mouth

touching nature's beauty

so simple

yet so complicated

to touch what cannot be touched

reach what cannot be reached

the hopes and dreams of us

just a little too high up

just a little less dense than we can hold

so we hope and dream of solid clouds

ones that are soft and fluffy

enveloping you in their cool, vast embrace

only other islands of clouds and the sky

enjoying the vastness of it all

but we've yet to get there

get to achieve our near impossible hopes and dreams

that keep pouring out of our hearts

despite trying to contain it

and so we wait

and hope

and dream

to reach the clouds.