While shaving, a thought came to mind;
one, more than thirty years old;
a recollection, while shaving, another time;
it’s memory, clear and bold.
The memory was of little consequence;
it held no real value for me;
except it related a life circumstance;
allowing my mind to see.
How could thoughts of so little importance;
remain; somehow stored in my mind?
It acted as though it were life’s concordance;
with all my chapters held, confined.
Perhaps everyone’s life was indeed a book;
with all transactions retained within.
But, could our minds hold each thought took;
such voluminous events have no end.
It occurred: computors had given solution;
their mode of storage made me laugh out loud;
it served as the metaphor of reality’s conclusion;
everything ever scripted is stored on the cloud.
If thoughts, themselves, were all stored above;
then no limit existed to the storage allowed;
the Master created all things through love;
and they all came as a mist from a cloud.
Once this magnificent truth is discovered;
we find ourselves, too, laughing out loud;
with all the secrets of reality, uncovered;
Consciousness is that Cloud.