Friday, August 19, 2011

Daydream in Blue

I looked at the setting sun from my post at the coffee shop. I didn’t just look, i stared. Big, beautiful smiling circle that it is, as it were. Almost wholly unreal, on a day like this, how the sun just sits there as if it sat its whole life.

I watched it explode in brilliance and in light, and thought of how now, as people, we forget that we live off of it, we try to take care of it, but at the end and beginning of each day we can’t do much but admire it. Pretty with no doubt, is our glowing orb of life-bearing light.

Then I saw a plane fly by, the kind of plane that ferried human passengers all around through the sky. From one port of air unto another, the plan was to move all the passengers, with little delay, until the end of time. What must those passengers be thinking, thoughts coursing through each of their minds, as they become ferried as they were; to be. From the same port to a similar position, later in time.

Further down the line come more checkpoints and options and dotted lines. This one to go here, as that one goes there, and following the laws of thermodynamics that leads to problems that change but never go and disappear. They just keep on changing, only to reappear as different things in different scenes.

A nightmare, must be this dream! I keep watching the plane trailing away, up higher in elevation with all of those same people that flew out of sunny L.A.

It’s the passengers time; the lucky ones’ sitting on the west side, gently looking at the opposite of this suns’ rise. The moon comes over opposite, gently bugging the tide. The passengers that sit to the east crane their necks, each trying to catch the last glimpse of that big ball fleeting in the sky, before it slips underwater, determined; efficiently having set.

They’re all hopefuls, we’re all hopefuls as of yet. From my position on the ground i thank the gods that i’m not challenging physics, rationality, and Bernouli through heavier-than-air jets. Jets made of space age materials that we as a people have harnessed, pretentious.

And so i digress. I try to do what they told me, in class and in all those years that have now become history lessons. There’s no stop to looking at the light as i trudge forth, as Icarus begins his fall, blind. With boots strapped on so hard that my veins turn black as they beg to be untied. I go running as i begin to notice markings on this planes aft side. Vertical stabilizers marking DHL or Fed-Ex or some other shipping collective leaves only one clear meaning: All those passengers i quantified, all those souls flying over this great divide, all of this strolled in my imagination as i sat perplexed outside...

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