When I was little
And used to believe
I would sit outside in the summers
And stare up at the clouds
I would squint my hardest
Peer with all my might
To catch a glimpse of my dog or grandpa who had passed.

When I grew older
And started to question
I went on a plane ride
And soared
Above the smooth white valleys, and puffy mountains
But saw no one
And when we landed my faith did not follow
It chose to stay in the clouds.

When I was thirteen
And eager to fit
My friends were all in a youth group
And I tagged along
But as my peers turned heads to the ground
In prayer
I lifted my face to the clouds
With question instead of dominant acceptance I knew I was different.

When I left freshman year
And was a nonbeliever through and through
I went on a mission trip
And did my best to fit again
I said what I was meant to
Eyes turned down
But even then my gaze flickered up to the clouds
And as it did I spotted another
Face turned skyward along with me.

When I'm writing this
And still as confused as ever
I realize that it isn't all black and white
And there is no choice between the ground and the clouds
Because faith and logic coexist
And faith grows stronger with every war I fight against it
On the battlefield or, as always,
In the clouds.