Hiding in Cloudtops 

I need to be somewhere I can’t be seen.

A high mountaintop or a distant valley…

I can come down when I’m able to speak.

Speak clearly, that is, no maniac’s grin.

No pendulum stuck left somewhere within.

If it’s stuck right? No point. Black depression.

In any case, a cloudtopped mountain place,

Would be high enough, yet not suffocate.

It offers a view of each passing face.

Judge those expressions to measure the speed

Of the pendulum’s swing, whether it’s stayed.

Their eyes tell the truth, up here I remain.

© CGT, 2017.

Talk to me.

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