We Can’t Outfly The Sky, We Can’t Outrun The Sun

Fleeing from the sunset, we are, in this airboat sailing,
but it’ll catch up eventually after we reach our port.
We waste the day, shielded from our local star,
only to complain that it’s on the wrong side of the planet when we’re ‘done with work’ and ‘ready’ for’t.
From being in sync with nature, to slowly being conditioned into overly pampered vampires,

what a quagmire: we only live ‘happily’ when we spend nothing, but have everything, when we have the means, but not necessarily the will, and when we get more than “not enough,” but not “too much” sun.
We’re not really hiding from nature, we’re just flying west – or am I just in denial?

In the 21st of these centuries (friendly reminder that ‘time’ is entirely made up) we’re less connected to our natural surroundings than we might have ever been, a sliding scale that correlates with our tech, rising,
We recoil at touching earth while sipping on our ultra processed beverage of choice.
We rely on technology our ancestors never had to pamper ourselves, finding ways to enhance life, dial down our capacity to think, trade convenience for everything, even our own voice.

So while we fly high, no lie, you know this – this is irony, ideal;
As tech evolves, so does our hubris, our collective idea that we’re ‘above’ life as we know it, that human superiority is real.
Forget not we are all stardust, nature is the only ‘ruler’ of this rotating blue pearl,
Open your mind to where water flows, plants grow, and phone service is non-existent – find time away from our man-made world. – RSM

Periwinkle Skies; A Sign

A light purple, if you will,

So trill, the hue of royalty hangs itself above the ever-moving metropolis,

it’s a shade that flirts with blue, purple, and grey – every so often, this, horizon

glows above us, quietly, yet proudly.

Not unlike the dusk that follows, it wanes into darker times, yet reminding us to be not afraid of the night. – RSM

The Night Sky on Take Off

(Written August 8, 2018)

A perfect storm of clear skies make way for crystal clear streetlights

to dot the earth with grid shaped tattoos,

and if even if one or two blow a fuse, the pattern holds strong.

And all along the rising spiral off the runway

I’m reminded of how beautiful it is to fly. – RSM