Of Our Own Making

The turbines hum
in a rhythmic melody
engulfing me, embracing me
in a steady buzz, constant.

Air flowing, a mechanical wind
invisibly present.

These are the elements of escape
thirty thousand feet above,
surrounded in isolation.

Those other noices subside,
lost in the steadiness of this
more demanding presence.

In this aluminum nirvana,
we feel a more elemental existence.

Nothing in our control with
the most limited of choices –
we’re shuttled along within another’s grasp.

It mirrors our broader existence,
players in another’s game, but
the finite nature of this world
bears our limitations honestly.

No pretense of control or influence –
here, we simply are.

Freed thus, the mind wanders
in and around the known, eventually
settling into the unknown.

The might-be of our life.
It is quiet, and possible.
Above the clouds, all seems possible.

On we go, steady, forward.

Flying toward a sunrise
of our own making.