There is something very beautiful about disappearing into the clouds– camouflaged well enough to allow you to move through life seeing more than most and being seen less by many.
As with all blessings, there are curses. I wonder when people bump me on the street or walk directly at me like I’m not there if I am not–they can’t see me because I’m not real. Is my energy level so low that my vibrations can only create a dissipated cloud of mist that can be readily drifted through? Can I be so easily breathed in and exhaled?
To be solid, though, is an illusion. We are in constant motion, even as we imagine ourselves to be in one place.