Promises of White Fluffy Clouds and Forever Bliss
By Shane Robitaille
When the world’s woes bring me down,
I remember how awesome humans
can sometimes be when we really want to.
I mean, we’ve made really cool stuff like
pyramids, Tylenol, electric lights,
equal rights, M-TV (in the 80s), and music.
Especially music that tackles you to the ground,
takes your hand and dances with your soul,
makes you forget about the mad world,
and then gives you wings, like a majestic eagle,
so you can soar above the noise, breaking through
the storm clouds, higher, higher, and still higher
until you can reach your hand up and touch a star,
if only for a glorious moment, snagging a few
sparkles of heaven and putting them
into your back pocket for safe keeping.
Then, just as the last tug of gravity looses its grip
and the white hot celestial bodies taunt you to stay
with promises of white fluffy clouds and forever bliss,
you snap out of it, give a quick wink to the Milky Way,
and start to descend back down again,
with a kick-ass grin and glow on your face,
glad that you soared with the angels for a few minutes,
but knowing that the mad world is still the place to be.
