From elemental rock, thirty thousand feet above
We have risen, so absurd the dream
Earth to metal, metal to wings
We ride, if not the winds, we forge ahead
The dream forgotten, the reality accepted
The runway falling away reveals the blackened arteries that feed this place of displaced people, in transit, homeless for the time being, often where home is has been forgotten
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 