Day 150 - Cloud 9 - 1 = ?

This flying cloud was once known as cloud nine

It was perfect white and made of fluff so fine

That was back when it was whole and complete

When soaring from coast to coast was no feat

But rather all in a day's work and play

When clouds ran short of things to say

But one day the wind blew the cloud to bits

And now far away and lonely it sits

In the blue wide expanse of sky

Asking the heavens what and why

What am I to be called forever more

When being complete was only with her

Cloud number eight seems such a fallacy

When nine was the center of his reality

Number eight without any cloud is cruel

For what else can in the skies truly rule?

She was more than one but less than it too

Now the nameless cloud knows not what to do