Onwards

I was taught that
The clouds are like our thoughts 
They come and go
They thunder, they accuse
They shelter, they surprise
But the sky above them stays the same -
Watches them stir, big and beautiful, frightening -
Aware, but above the stream of movement. 
So our minds must be.

My mind can be a catastrophe, often.
But occasionally I catch a glimpse 
Of the grey clouds sailing
Whether they like it or not
They float, like the pretty ones,
Onwards. 

C. LJ Ireton