Author Information
R.I.P Flight 210 and Courage
So…
I used to stare down
from thirty or forty
thousand feet
and ponder my fate.
But now…
Now I understand
the inevitability.
I see the futility
in any attempt
to comprehend
the complexity
of chance.
Like the lottery winner,
and the fly
who managed
to disentangle itself
from the spiders web,
and the ant
my barbaric footstep
missed,
and the two globular
masses of gas,
colliding in space,
with just enough energy
to join forces
in forming a new galaxy,
and the diseased vagina
that failed to transmit
anything
beyond pleasure,
and the one
who missed the flight.
There is hope,
yet I struggle
with courage.
“Instant” to me
doesn't mean
three minutes
of your worst nightmares
in motion.
Like watching
the sun explode.
An end of life
as you know it,
soon to engulf you.
A confirmation
of your impending doom,
without the time
to make amends.
The novel,
the symphony,
the painting,
the memoirs,
the sculpture,
the children,
the legacy!
All buzz around your head
like butterflies
with Alzheimer’s.
Three minutes
to sum up
existence.
Three minutes
to make sense
of insanity.
Three minutes
to find
God.
