“Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace” – Amelia Earhart
Sometimes she dreamed she was flying,
And sometimes she was flying,
Navigating the journey with a sextant
While floating in thin air,
Sinking to the beckoning seas
Without expectation of end.
It takes one mirror,
One fleck of glinting silvered glass,
To catch the sun and send a ray of light
Down the dusty hollow of a dark hallway
Catching each dancing mote in the path
Of confused locations.
And she was not.
Lost in a peculiar eternity, hopeful
In anticipation of foreverness,
Dreaming over the empty ocean,
Not sitting outside a mediocrity
Of boarding houses and noon-time darknesses.
© Martin Porter 2012