a question for you :star: || event

the world would be dark all the time from the view of my cloud. starry skies, moonlit reflections on the rivers, and oceans and even the puddle in front of a random girls apartment; during the day, she’d splash in it with her yellow rain boots.

stars seep through the cloud and onto my bed; I even taste stardust when I have breakfast in the morning, never leaving my cloud for anything. I enjoy staying up here, my cloud all white in the night sky.

how I don’t fall right through? my cloud is metaphorical and it’s actually the person who keeps me grounded the most, though the way he looks at me and loves me, makes me feel like my head is in the clouds, and I can’t think straight.

if i lived all the way up there, in the clouds, i think i would have chosen a tiny cloud house, not a mansion or anything too lavish and extravagant. i'd want a cozy place, where my hand-knit blanket rests on the couch, my paintings adorn the walls and the tiny holes that pretend to be windows are positioned in such a way that no matter what time of the day is, there is always sunshine bouncing off of the space of my home.

and i'd host parties - small gatherings for the people i adore; dash, vio, erin, krow, every single friend i have met here, and there'd be soft music and good food, fresh rain and scent of hyacinth in the air. we'd laugh and maybe even clumsily dance, because time wouldn't go as fast up there, as it does down here.

but when the night comes, i'd take a lawn chair out, made out of the thickest cloud; the one that feels like fur, like the softest thing there is. i'd sit in front of the starry sky, say hello the lovely moon as she gets ready for work, and then i'd hang out with all the stars. listen to their stories, laugh to their jokes, bear my heart to their twinkling light and let the earthy heaviness lift from my light frame.

i bet they'd be great listeners.

i bet breathing would feel much easier up there.

Thunder - there is always thunder. My cloud is home. My cloud is my safe space from the lightning.

Every now and again , when I am the tallest thing in the environment, I get struck and covered in rain.

But one day , the thunder and lightning moved away from my cloud and it was sunny. I was able to sunbathe. It was warm and not too hot.

I would like to experience those types of days more.

If I were a puff of smoke, if I were fumes of smoke, if I were just nothing but smoke

do you think I would disappear into thin air as if I never existed,

or do you think the matter of which I am made would drift so few and far apart

that I seem non-existent at all

as I float up to the sky

beneath, which floats my home amongst the clouds.

Up here, where the clouds float between the skies and the Earth,

are homes of all different shapes and sizes, hiding people that no one knows,

I sit on the balcony of my little white home, leaning against its soft cushion-like walls,

looking at all the other homes that are built of the same material as mine,

water droplets and / or ice crystals

as vapour rose into the sky and built all these homes

which during the days all look alike that even I have often walked into my neighbours' homes thinking they were mine.

But at dusk and at dawn, something beautiful happens with a touch from the sun

these plain white homes are painted in colours, in hues of blue, yellow and red and so many mixtures in between,

now the homes which could never be differentiated in colours no matter how much one would try,

there would be not a single home that resembled each other or even itself with each sunset and sunrise.

There lived Zee, in a home warm and cosy, always illuminated in hues of gold,

often on her rooftop, would shoot yellow flower like cottons of clouds, and when the colours of the morning and evening sun would paint her home,

it would look like sunflowers growing on the rooftop of her house in the clouds

unaware, she sits on the chair on her porch and sips her coffee with a book in her hand.

On my right lived Violette, in a home made just for her, where no one would disturb her peace unless she invited them in,

through the window of her home, are little structures of houses on her table

each one unique and beautiful, an architect of clouds in motion,

when the sun would rise and set, the house would be coloured in shades of purple

never once resembled the shades before but somehow always found a new hue to show

and that's how we would know

that was her home when the skies and the clouds would glow.

These homes were just made for a little while,

they only lasted for as long as one would wish

and for as long as one would think and hope,

we could float amongst the skies and live inside the clouds

without any worries, without being held tied by a rope,

as long as we desired and as long as we aspired,

and if one day that faith weakened

we would pour down in rain or snow back to the ground where we came from,

but hope is always so beautiful, for we hope and we rise again, building worlds none of us ever imagined.

(I hope I answered everything. ALSO, I LOVE THIS NEW EVENT 🫶 :sparkling_heart: )