What The Sky Gives Away

The clouds don't know I'm watching
they don't know the sky
their billowy enigma
is not a form of guilt
I wonder what it's like to rest up there
high above the tiny troubles
of passing days
just air and water
holding the possibility of rain
I welcome it, the rolling darkness,
harbinger of a coming storm,
the promise of a torrent,
ushered in by low rumblings
blanketing the sky with fevered dreams
that acknowledge a time
when ignorance burned all the altars down