Fantasy Land

A cloud walks across the ocean's surface.

Two great white legs stretch straight down from the sky.

Two heavy feet step lightly atop the waves.

And I think to myself:

This must be a dream.

Surely such magic cannot exist in waking life.

For clouds do not walk as we do.

How absurd!

I'll awaken to a dull reality.

Where they merely fly.

Boring ole airborne alchemists.
Breathing in water's ghost,
And exhaling it anew.

In persistent transformation.
Reviving the dead.
Nourishing our nourishment.

But legs?
Feet?
Steps?

Ha! No.
A farfetched fantasy, certainly.

Such things cannot be.

There is no such thing as magic.