Where Will I Be Tomorrow?
While looking at clouds in a sunset, I can’t help but think about tomorrows. The sun sets and fulfills its promise to rise again—but the clouds? Floating, fragile, delicate, and eventually pulled apart by the expanse of their own and only world—what course is theirs to follow? Do clouds reach their tomorrows? While looking at clouds in a sunset, I borrow their kind of sorrow and can't help but think, "Where will I be tomorrow?"