Artifice

Sky, a perfect blue.
Clouds, the milkiest white.
We stand in formation,
Faceless in the light.

We seem solid, strong.
But we’re not, inside,
Where our liquid selves
Shift like the ocean’s tides.

Those milky clouds,
That stunning blue,
Our tight formation—
These seem true

But aren’t. They offer
Security’s illusion,
Proffer a momentary
stay against confusion.