Cloud Deck

Always.

 

That's how long I've loved flying.

 

From before I can remember, I've crossed the skies in shiny silver tubes filled with fragile bodies just like mine. And every time, when that silver dart pierces the veil of a cloud deck I smile.

 

I've accessed the landscape of dreams, of imagination, and of impermanence. I've left the "real", the "solid", the land of men. No footprint has ever marked these mountains and valleys. No had has managed to permanently scar the landscape.

 

And I secretly wonder what would happen, who would know, when I fell back to the earth, if I decided to be someone else for a while. What if I could use this time in the shifting landscape of clouds to become "not me". And what would happen, on my inevitable return journey, as I once again traversed the kingdom of ether, if I couldn't really leave "not me" behind.

 

That's why, every time I land back home, under the guise of a long over-the-head-palms-to-the-sky stretch, I say my name, quietly to myself, just to be sure.

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Taken on July 30, 2010