The Slopes Of Fantastically Reachable Clouds Poem by Anton Edwards

what is it.. about the magic of gliding
the slopes of fantastically reachable clouds
that lessens the burden of life's hidden tidings,
at once, unencumbered by gravity's doubts?

the noise of the engines consumes all emotion
the numbness of space - no echo that follows
a peaceful seclusion, protected by motion
a pillow of winds - gently comforted sorrows

you drift into slumber, enveloped by space
a memory - sweet - plays to its somber rhyme
awake one does come in a moment of grace
the distance is distant, and timeless is time

one hardly imagines a stranger condition
to think of no weight of old burdens in hand
the ties that once held you in such indecision
all float away, knot by knot, strand by strand

surrendered and freed are the earthly illusions
removed and forgotten the strings that hold fate
we float in ether.. and buoyed by its cushion
so safe is the moment, so weightless the state

each journey indeed has its terminal point
descending on land, we connect the two dots.
my bliss.. is to have A and B out of joint
forever in transit, and missing in thoughts