NEPHART.COM

You…
you can call the sinking sun warm.
Even as it slips away,
its last glow can still rest on your cheek,
a farewell touch
from something that never belonged to you
yet touched you anyway.

But you…
you cannot leash the sun,
cannot grab it by the rim
and lift it
back over the ridge
into the sky.
The sun may honor your courage,
but it does not obey your wanting.

And you…
you can speak to clouds
in any language you choose.
Give them names,
shapes,
stories.
Clouds listen
but rarely change
because of a voice.

And still,
even if you plead,
you cannot summon rain on command.
A sky does not weep
before its time.
Just as a heart
refuses to shed tears
until something inside
finally shifts.

Air,
light,
clouds
may walk beside you,
but none of them
walk under your ownership.
We live by learning this.

You can tell someone
to be gentle,
but their wounds
must heal beneath their own skin.

You can beg the world
to look beautiful,
but every pair of eyes
carries a private map of old storms.

Nature keeps teaching us:
our addressing is free,
our outcomes are not.

This is why
you can call the sun warm
but you cannot call it back.
You can call to the clouds
but you cannot make them rain.

And maybe this is why
I call to the human heart
without asking it to change.
Because the heart
is just another weather system
moving at its own pace,
under its own sky.