Clouds can be fluffy, white, wispy, or condensed. Many times, they are various shades of grey – light and unthreatening, or dark and foreboding. The edges of clouds are bulbous, not sharp, giving them an appearance of being soft and amorphous, even when they are stormy.
We all know the image of a brain: with the overall shape of a kidney bean, it too is squishy, without sharp edges, a bit more solid than how we think of clouds to be; but like clouds, the brain is also full of liquid and electricity. As children, the way we draw the two is really quite similar. The brain is our own personal grey matter. It is our own cloud.
In a clear sky, a sky without any clouds, we experience the full warmth and enlightenment of Earth’s personal celestial being, the sun. No matter what shade or density, clouds obscure the sun’s rays to some extent. Light fluffy clouds only block some of the sun’s intensity, whereas dark stormy clouds can block the sun’s rays entirely, sometimes even replacing the sun’s fire with the cloud’s own attempts at fire – a simultaneously angrier and sadder version, full of dangerous lightning, and big teardrops of rain.