The Clouds and the Clearing

Sometimes, it is a pink cloud of gentle empathy.
At other times, a billowing plume
of red smoke leaves a trail on the street
where our longing, our irritation, our passion,
or our heated discussions once took up space.
With every step, we leave behind
clouds of presence,
energy fields of color,
and emotions that hang in the air.
If potent enough, the potion clings to buildings,
leaving an invisible film of discarded thoughts.

What if we cough up cobalt blue,
when walking the same road
where blame was tossed, like a badminton game?
What if we inhale so much green envy smoke
that the air itself becomes too polluted to breathe?
What if we absorb what other people exhale?

The soft pink and the strident blue—
the bold red and the preoccupied green
all exist on the spectrum of aired emotions.
We cannot always see what the spirit feels,
but the body knows if it has walked through mire or a breeze.
It is a wonder that we are not covered
from head to toe in this paint that does not breathe.
If not for the trees, lakes, leaves, and grass
acting as living filters,
we would be walking through thick molasses space.

The Clouds and the Clearing

Like a magician’s greatest vanishing act,
the enlightened body strives to leave nothing behind
but a hint of grace
and an outline of what is possible—
a clean, transparent circle where light shines through.