Running from the Sunrise

Listening to the steady roar of the engines, looking over the yellow brick roads, running away from the sunrise. This is appropriate, but only in suitable audiences. And since you are strapped into a leather airplane seat, you might as well apply. I’m sure you’ll qualify. The slightest movement of my wings will rock your world, and take me where we want to go, drifting through the sky. Because the sky dreams, and it dreams of dragons. Dragons are real, you know, flying through space-time, running across the land. Never have I been without this knowledge, that most things aren’t really stable matter, but merely vibrations, so it doesn’t matter how steady his hand is: it’s always moving. If we fly fast enough, we can escape the growing wonder of the sun, and hide in the dark, saving the beauty of light for another time. Maybe I’ll see you there, maybe we will meet in the sun. When we do, I’ll tell you how the story ends, because right now, I don’t know and I’m slightly confused. Big brown boxes look so small out my window, even though I can’t stop looking at them for some stupid reason. Do lions purr? I know a dog that does, who thinks she’s my mother. She isn’t, really, but I let her believe, because we all need something to believe in. Looking at the same view all the time isn’t going to win a crown, but I don’t care, because there was a reason for everything about two years ago. If you live in a place where you can run forever, don’t move away. Stay right where you are. Because you live in the right place, just like me.