Sometimes there is lightning without rain. As if heaven wants to escape from it's stale perception and worthless title. Given by mere mortals, who would never understand it, bound by fear of hell.

Maybe it wants to be clouds again.

Simple. Perfect. Immortal.

There's a souless virtue in clouds.

I often ponder a world without them. That's what pondering's for; thinking over the vast possibilities, of nothing.

We are all nothing waiting to happen.

"One cannot happen without zero."
-B.B.

Yes
No
Do nothing