Falling,
out of that too blue sky.
The end of a meteoric rise.
Trailing down,
spiraling out.
Whatever sustains life
becomes the meaning of it.
I’ve found myself surviving,
caught in the ebb and flow
of constancy and routine;
my favorite antidote
to all this chaos
and insanity.
I sure have been up there,
way up in the clear blue sky.
Viewing the curve of the Earth,
then watched the blue fade to black.
In the cold, dead outside,
I realized there is no time,
only what we synthesize,
so I came back home.
Survived that on my own.
Nothing matters more
and I’m not sure
I have it in me
for another re-entry.
HG – 2018
