The Cloud Who Stayed
High in the sky, a cloud drifts on the afternoon breeze.
It has traveled far, chasing the sun until the last light melts into the sea, following the moon across sleeping villages, drifting beneath the stars.
It loves changing shape as it moves, becoming a feather, a great white bird, a sailing boat, then something without a name at all.
There is always another horizon. Another valley. Another wind waiting to carry it somewhere new.
But lately, a question has begun whispering inside the cloud.
What would it feel like to simply stay?
The cloud does not know.
Clouds move. That is what clouds do.