(To My Pilot)
By FRANKIE IPSEN May 10, 2022
Soaring above the clouds,
dancing in the sky with the sun in my face,
outracing the clouds,
with nowhere to be.
Where should I go?
Anywhere I go,
an adventure shall await.
If not for the sun in the sky
with its bed of clouds,
I could fall but not yet touch the ground.
What am I chasing?
As I am gliding,
the wind is flowing through my wings.
The bright white sky in my front window,
all I can see in my rearview mirror is time.
What is that bright white sky?
Faster and faster, I glide,
hiding from what is below.
Solid ground is what I remember before my flight.
So long ago it seems like.
What is it that I am hiding from?
For the sky is open and clear,
like a highway in the night.
No highway rules,
just the rules of the sky.