High, higher than a mind can fly,
and still I can’t remember why
I sit upon this pedestal;
breaching cloud above the world,
peering down like god I do,
wondering what good ensues,
me upon this post.
Deny I do this heaven’s perch,
I am no angel or man besmirched,
but certainly no place up here
do I deserve;
yet here I am, on cloud up high,
my reason and place I can deny,
for I do not know my plight.
I can’t be dead,
not notice I lost my head,
or swiftly was I brought here unbeknownst,
surely there’s a reason here,
a man as me no destiny clear,
and yet on cloud as soft as tears
I sit here unannounced.
High, so high I feel no weight at all,
and falling not a worry,
yet earth below looks rather slow,
at distance all the folk like ants and nothing more,
and I observing there every movement,
please answer, I implore,
why am I up here and not below?
Then I wake and body ache,
on the ground with flashing lights and sound,
overwhelming to me senses,
and doctors hover, dressings and masks
and blurred frantic voices;
I am not dead but where’s the car I was driving?
Oh, I gasp, an accident perhaps.
Tony DeLorger © 2017