Cloud substance trickles over my wings on the first level of a three-tier nebula cake Up here on the soft surface of the abyss we are something, We travel motionless, our thoughts on a plane of madness. Falling down from above everything Earthly The clouds shift uncomfortably, They are itchy like asbestos. And we breathe the fumes we create. Take that away and we become compressed to a droplet of water, Part of the cloud we watch materialize and disintegrate. And this is a journey long and slow. All speculation of what is at the end is wrong. Close your eyes and paint tiring hope Feel a warm turquoise tear meet your lip and like magic it makes you smile. You are a bright star on the end of a stick in the middle of the desert And I am an eyelash on a camel that blinks at it. H.H.