The story of the sky, from the sky. Removed for a minute from the land below, so we may revel in our wanderlust and our insatiable longing for a pair of wings.
A strange geography – space filled with unfamiliar light and shadow, time compressed and diminished. Belonging is a question without an answer. For this is the distance.
The fate of those who came before is often obscured, wind and time determined as they are. But the dust eventually settles and somewhere within, the wisdom to not suffer the same fate.
There is a different kind of depth, not measured in fathoms or meters. One that surrounds all yet is unseen by most. The eye blinks, the eons pass, and the mountain still decides.
Ubiquitous but always untouchable. A distant stranger to most, a close companion to the explorer. For to know one’s way around the world is to know the horizon.
Perhaps we never did belong upon the captain’s helm, these treacherous waters caring not of ships. But the unknown beckons as the harbor’s light fades, and so we sail the wild, wild sea.