Flying is all about a new perspective. (Photo: Pexels)
At thirty-five thousand feet
I wonder what I would see
if I happen to be gazing down
at just the right moment
to catch a glimpse of the show.
Were a person far below
to hit the sweet spot
of perfect enlightenment.
Would I see thunderbolts of lightning
all aimed at the immovable spot?
Would I hear trumpets blaring
and cymbals clashing loud enough
to supersede the jet’s roar?
Likely as not, there would be no hint
of the great event, except perhaps
a subtle shift in the atmosphere.
Or maybe a slight lessening of tension
in another dimension, as the earth herself
emits a sigh of relief in giving birth,
once again to the one thus come.