Cumulus

I built an empire beneath the clouds

not from marble, not from myth,

but from the grit beneath my fingernails

and the ache of wanting more.

They said dreams float, but mine grew roots.

I saw dragons in the sky and met them on the ground,

sword in one hand, tightly held hope in the other.

The world gave me cumulus — cotton promises, soft lies,

castles in the air. I gave it thunder.

Each cloud I chased, I carried it back down,

wrung the rain from its folds, washed my face,

and kept on walking.

Let others glitter — I ground.

Let them wish — I built.

My house is not in the heavens.

But the stars? They will know my name.