to the clouds

and they loved themselves, to the clouds.

they loved the pretty colors of their hair and the way the sun lit up their eyes. 

they loved the shape of their world, the sounds their feet made when landing on hot sand versus cold stone.

they loved how the salt earth sat in their ears and up their nose; 

and at the things they could make with mind, the strings of words and consecutive thought, the technology that took it all in and threw it all out.

they marveled at what was created, hugged their reflection and kissed selves of future passing; fleeting forever between satellite daisies and moon dust and yawn.

— a million years on they gazed down at the earth and so howled harlequin madness; it was nothing as they remembered.