It’s easy to believe in

Eternity

When you’re flying high Inside a plane

Above the clouds.

There’s nothing.

Nothing.

In every direction,

Except, of course, when you look inside the plane.

But outside, there are only

Variations of white and gray.

While off in the distance

The rays of the sun

Have turned the whites and grays

Into shades of blue and pink on one side

Of the plane

And shades of yellow and orange on the other.

You see contours, fluffs, peaks.

Depths that could be miles or inches

But with no reference point,

It’s all meaningless.

Eternity.

Time.

Stretching in every direction,

Except, of course, when you look inside the plane.

Then there’s a break and looking down

You see roads and lights.

But where are we?

And when are we?

Has time moved us to some distant point?

Are we still here now?

Or are we earlier or later in time?

Is that single light in the valley below

The campfire of a prehistoric hunter keeping fears at bay?

Or of a gold prospector camping near his claim?

Or of a crashed spaceship pilot signalling her whereabouts?

Is that large cluster of lights

A medieval town with torches in the streets?

Or a bustling city run on electricity?

Or a thriving metropolis using technologies not yet dreamed of?

But with the next break

You see only mountain tops capped in more white.

With no signs of life.

Just ridge upon ridge,

Flanked by valley upon valley,

Untouched, it would seem by human hand or foot or tool.

From up here

It’s easy to believe in

Eternity.

Time stretching up and down.

Forward and back.

Round and round.

And us, a group of souls,

Believing our own realities,

Here inside the plane.

 

I wrote this poem on one of the trips we took. I didn’t have wifi so I couldn’t access my blog site. However, I was able to write it in a section of the site that I somehow accessed and then I forgot about it. Several days ago I found it but couldn’t get it to my site. I’m blaming the heat and being tired because today I just highlighted it, copied it and pasted it to my blog.

I used to write poetry all the time. Somewhere along the way I stopped, and I think I miss it. Clearly I was inspired on that flight, whenever it was. I hope inspiration will strike again. Or maybe I’ll use this as my inspiration and just start writing poetry again.