A single encounter leads to clarity…
The sights pinned onto vast horizons of the night’s skies,
Searching for dots of blinking light
Quivering in the distance.
Shimmers of metallic essences reflect off the endless seas.
Out there in the expanses of nowhere
Are messengers of the breeze and clouds and winds-
Ones who know how to fly or free fall,
Assured of rising an instant before the crash,
Ones who surrender will and soul and heart and mind to the winds,
Ones who are movement and speed and passion and amazement.
To those messengers of night-day
The lights speak poetry!
P.S.- I remember having read a little bit of Stephen Spender's "The Express" in school, wondering how people could find poetry in the monotony of the railway lines. Yet, here I am, thinking about the beauty of flight- even if it is a mechanical flight, and a controlled flight.