Tell me, whether wisps of cloud may be brought down by hand and added to my collection of dreams. I had bottled the wind in my heart, but she blew no more, as the light died, that my eyes captured, the moment the lids were closed. I have tried so long to build a heaven in my heart's chambers; I'd forgotten where I placed the door. "Step outside," I hear the voice now: the cry of that wind, the shining of that light. They forgive me, and call me out, and even that cloud cries no more.