Clouds 1 + 2 = 9 [sonnet]

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clouds

For longer than my longing can recall,
an unformed cloud has floated in my sky.
Condensed from rain out of a waterfall,
it posed an answer (puzzle) in a why.

I struggled hard to understand its form
and asked why it was by itself up there.
“I am a mirror hung here to inform
you of your fate. No more need you despair”.

And then, while wond’ring what those words could mean,
another little cloud condensed there too.
They blended into one; no space between.
That second cloud was me — the first was you.

A voice came from the cloud when it had grown;
“You fool”, it said, “to think you’d been alone!”

.
.
© Alan Morrison, 2015

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