And at risk of sounding repetitive, they float because that's what clouds do.
They look pretty on occasion when the sun sets or rises as the rays hug the little white fluffs while they hover in that Big Blue Expanse, and sometimes they shift into a variety of interesting shapes which, to the entertainment of the smaller humans, is quite often perceived a spectacle. Some like to argue what they consist of or imagine them to function like the soft interior stuffing of a throw pillow. But regardless, they float along the sky every day, and all their stories end in the same way in that they drift from one side of the sky into the other for as long as they do until they fade away. And after so many years of looking up towards the little white fluffs does begin to realize how ordinary a cloud is. We see a pretty, drifting thing and a peaceful thing, most effortlessly going along on its little way without concern because the thing about clouds is that they float.
But clouds cannot change their course. They cannot predict or control the direction in which they float. They cannot direct themselves towards other clouds or choose the clouds they might intercept. A cloud is as alone and helpless as any one thing could be as it drifts along that Big Blue Expanse. But that's never a matter as that's simply what clouds do despite their helpless circumstance. They float.
But I learned one day that clouds, being composed of a bunch of tiny water particles are actually falling, just very slowly. They float so ordinarily, or so it appears when we look to them for some amusement. But those drifting, shifting things, as they make their way from point A to wherever, in their most basic state, are falling from the sky and towards the Earth because as science often goes, everything falls.
As is the truth in life that everything falls, and though a bleak disposition it is, it is one not cause for alarm as we can see that if a thing like a cloud, a most lonesome and ordinary thing in such a perpetual state of falling, can persist in catching onto the wind then most certainly could a thing like you and me in our own perpetual states of falling persist in carrying on, in observing the clouds. Because the thing about clouds is that they float even when they cannot perceive their destination. They cannot willingly change their shape. They cannot predict the day in which they will fade away or make sure a person will be lying along the grass upon their backs to gaze up at them as they do. And on some days there will be no clouds at all, but there will be more, there will always be more, and when there is, they will float as they so often do.
And to that I remain in happiness.