Planes in the Sky

I once looked up into the black expanse:

that layer lying above us all.

I saw bright lights that flashed or stayed

and thought of people - you and me.

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky

because, perhaps, we were never meant to collide.

 

Individual flight paths, individual journeys;

individual motions in our lonely, separate lives.

Sometimes others join us but don't we like control?

And still our lives are different - we pretend this isn't true.

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky

because, perhaps, we were never meant to collide.

 

There's a multitude of destinies:

a multitude of stars. We choose one.

But do we strive for more in vain?

Aren't we basically the same?

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky

because, perhaps, we were never meant to collide.

 

Everyone encounters turbulence in their lives -

there are masses of clouds, masses of blues;

our problems amalgamate, and, heavy and dark,

they hang over us. But do those clouds, so dull,

so grey, shelter us from the often

blinding light of day. Who knows

who to trust

anymore?

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky

because, perhaps, we were never meant to collide.

 

Lights -

those heartening symbols.

Our mark on the world, our achievements

and also our joy: all our positivity encapsulated.

But their vessels flicker and are not always

visible.

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky

because, perhaps, we were never meant to collide.

 

What defines us?

Perhaps our emotions.

To feel is to hurt oneself

but like a drug, our emotions are

addictive - we'd give anything to feel.

(But the pain...)

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky

because, perhaps, we were never meant to collide.

 

Formless monsters in the sky

is what we sometimes are.

We commit nameless evils

against each other.

Is this the effect of

human nature

or forever blundering blindly?

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky

because, perhaps, we were never meant to collide.

 

Some of us are fighter planes:

we shoot each other down;

yet sometimes just one push is needed

for us to self-destruct.

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky

because, perhaps, we were never meant to collide.

 

Who are our passengers? They are not our

children - for they are their own planes.

Maybe our hopes: dreams and ambitions;

Probably our memories - for these we truly possess

and never lose.

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky...

 

So we are airplanes in the sky

and it's a debate whether we should collide.

So many bad things form our lives,

form the world, and good things are swallowed,

forgotten, engulfed.

Depression's understandable

but do we let it win?

What about love?

Family?

Peace in some countries, in lots

democracy. And charities help somewhat -

All is not lost.

 

Humans, humans: planes in the sky

Perhaps we were meant to collide.

The End

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