Last night, a great thing happened. Sky met earth in a twist of fatal violence, and anyone with ears to hear heard it. And anyone with eyes to see, let him see its wake today - not only across the ravaged land, but just as much so in the heavens. As I drove to camp this morning, I couldn't help but notice the clouds moving overhead. They were battered and bruised. Yet they still stood mighty and moved gracefully through the ocean above, like war-torn ships treading the coast of nations they just conquered. A ragged dog returning home through the alleyway after a fight. He's limping and bloody, but still not to be reckoned with. Yes, the clouds still moved with strides higher than our own.
This afternoon, as I was driving home, I decided to try my hand at a bit of cloud-bursting. It took some time and a great deal more patience than I really had to offer. The cloud I focused in on was small, as I am by no means an expert of this art and I didn't want to get in over my head so early in the game. And though it was small, it was a feisty bugger. He dodged this way and that, ducking behind trees and hiding behind the rear-view mirror. But I wouldn't give up and eventually it gave way into pieces. Proud of myself, I moved on to another of about the same size. Look at me, picking on these little runt clouds, a mouse bullying the armor-bearers. This one held onto its shape with more vigor, but ultimately fell apart as well. And so my pride grew even more and I began to think myself greater than the clouds, that I could perhaps be their king. The vanity of insects. But this was not a long-lived thought as my second victim disappeared into blue, for behind him loomed a cumulus army that filled the sky in ranks spanning as far as my pitiful cloud-bursting eye could see. Oh God, I was terrified! What a fool I was to think I could even come close to challenging these white and gray masses who fly higher and perceive more than I could ever imagine.
And then there's the God who made them...
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