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One Dimensional

I wonder why my human eyes
don't see clouds in three dimensions.
They flit by overhead
on blue canvas,
while the view from planes
evokes mountains, valleys,
and lo,
the very City of God.

But from down here
clouds are little more
than a flat Mona Lisa.
Oh, how I wish I knew
the full person,
but she
just stares and wrily smiles
in one dimension.

Now, the world in from of me,
in front of my eyes, that is;
at eye level, that is
is fully formed and rounded.
Meanwhile, the things above
appear flat and static
by comparison.

That I could see the things of Heaven
from such lofty places!
Would I then appear flat, and insignificant?
And so from here
do the clouds mean anything
when they stand
like flat masterpieces
drawn centuries ago?

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
Not married to the title
Editing stage: 


Sorry if I should have a serious face, but:-

"But from down here
clouds are little more
than a flat Mona Lisa."

Your play with flat vision is amusing, perhaps you should write more with just the humorous as you do that so well Mark?

"world in from of me,"...don't quite understand this?

Love Ann of Norway.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

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