The Plane Is A Metaphor

I like how small I feel

On a plane

Insignificant almost

But somehow like God Herself

Looking down at all of creation

Window seat

Pretzels please

I am everything

I am nothing

In those moments, it always strikes me how

We really are all the same

Not in a PR sense

I mean -

Whether we land

Float

Sink or crash

We’re all going up

Or down

Or somewhere else entirely

All together

We’re at the mercy of the plane

And of some greater universal force

They’re one and the same

One we can’t always name

But we all feel

No pain

Nothing to lose

Nothing to gain

It's fear and it's

Bliss

When you're shooting like a tin rocket

40,000 miles

Higher than high

On an arrow plane