Planes

What is it about the planes?

The clarity of planes that makes me pure.

Opens me and lets me flow. 

Reminds me to feel 

and makes my creativity so sensitive.

What happens in these frequent moments in the sky?

Is it the height, the weight, the juxtaposition, the clouds?

A confinement, closterphobic.

A focus on myself. Soley. My soul. 

My head. My mind. My heart.

I remind myself I am alive. 

I feel freedom here more so than anywhere else.

Maybe because I'm not anywhere else.

I'm at an in between. Not at a destination.

I'm no longer a departure and I'm not yet an arrival.

But it's here I exist most.

I exist most.

I exist most.

2003