I stood upon a cloud, stance relaxed and somber,
And stared long into the abyss of humanity.
They lumbered about below me,
Freakish in their common monotony.
Individuals seemed to march in single file,
Their faces painted to the same pattern.
And humanity was happy in this ordinary rhythm,
Each a singular thread in the dull fabric of the world.
But like every tapestry that's finely knit,
There is always one that doesn't quite fit.
And when that poor fellow came along,
Those painted faces fell into anger and chaos,
Their treasured tedium was fractured,
The fabric ripped to shreds.
I watched from my cloud with bated breath,
As they neatly cast the abnormal aside.
And what a breathtaking sight it was,
For when the despair and fear ceased,
Something new took its place.
It rose and shifted and morphed,
Until the odd one found itself in the sky.
A cloud beneath its feet as it slowly drifted,
Far above the neat, orderly lines.
But fear not!
For this cloud it drifted upon held another.
And I now had a friend,
One who would wander the clouds with me,
And ponder the reality of humanity.