Runway clears
Now aloft
Miles high
Above the smog
Crisp blue sky
First in weeks
Smogless air
First I’ve breathed
Shrouded beacon
Reaches into the murk
Whisper of stifled radiance
Beckons
Illuminates
A serpentine road
Beginning and end uncertain
Strike out for the unknown
Keep faith the road reaches the bridge
Hopeful glimmer beyond
That there is a purpose to my being
To my existence
Here in this time and place
That I get more than one shot
At finding that purpose
And bringing it to life
I watch them
And wonder if they notice me
Or if I’d remember them
Without this photograph
Each of us in our discrete worlds
Beyond each other
I watch them
And know we’re all connected
Not just in that spiritual sense
But in the sense that one small event
In a place far far away
Can touch us all
Here we draw together
To feel the connection
Through all that is
To each other
Earth alone
Is home to billions of such convergences
Leading to this gesture of humility:
How can I know this convergence of mine
Is the best of billions
Or even any good at all
All I know
Of the billions of others
Is at best learned conjecture
Even with the most intimate knowledge
Thus am I both creator and interpreter
Most of us are allowed a choice there
To dive right in with more or less grace
Or cling to the land against the inexorable tides
No matter the choice, whether or no we have one
We are all, inevitably, drawn down into that great depth
I rather like to think a beautiful light awaits us there
Pix to Words 