A dichotomy in the clouds -
my aeroplane wing extends
into sky; violet, indigo, pink partition
and here is peace without sound.
No hum or hindrance
in this vehicle vying for speed
floating on a vapour bed that rolls
like sleep infinitely cushioning my mind
against the sick fall of heights.
As though pointing,
my white wing
in sharp geometric design distinguishes
a form unmade in the distance beyond Earth:
a low hanging crescent (ringed) takes
shape as we shift in dawnlight.
The remainder of the planet unseen
is a blending fuzz of fuchsia-blue
and over there, though I do not recognise
is all loneliness,
at once both projected, predestined.
On this cold Solum star without life
(which I know it to be)
a great natural mass moves to stir itself
into rearrangement for survival –
macromolecules making micro-life seem
precious when all else fails
as it will.
We cannot go there.
Its airs and fumes are a blight against beauty
that prevent my ever-drawing lungs from taking
We pass by and perspective
begins to give up the planet
when the aeroplane rolls
to the east toward the sun,
breaking the blue mist, like over water –
not as transient – and the moment here will be caught
for longer, perhaps only a minute more,
where the solemn distance
peers through one side my window
and through the other,
the solaris charges
in an unclouded break on the far windows.
These vital moments almost touch over aisle seats.
I turn from the sun
and look to seek Solum 535
but it is passing away into a dying light;
It must be admired.