Ph: Life: Waiting In Airports Poem by Brian Johnston

A wait in an airport, if coming or going,
For business or pleasure, can't match one's return
To home fires, (for the greatest of ‘what might be's' embers
Can barely breathe light if you know Love is yourn!)
Her slight candle splits shadows to say she remembers,
That you are one source of the seed that needs growing!

Not likely your pocket gets picked while you're waiting,
The moneyed have tickets, those 'less than' kept out
The air privileged too seem to move with scant luggage
Though flying so high doesn't mean you're devout!
For one's wealth seems predictor of more not less baggage
And airheads on top does not mean they're relating.

But all live in airports that have but two outcomes
You get where you're going or land where you aren't!
A man's prospects have little to do with good fortunes,
Man's flight found in foibles of what he'll confront
Some can rise to the heavens on wings of their questions
Discover their futures in Nature's vast rhythms.

God's Love's human ether, it's water all swim in
Man's soul like a lifeboat, dimensional break,
And our link to the spirit-filled realms of our fathers
Where God's Word was All (though still, Science was cake!)
Now God's stars! Are they limit? A question that bothers
Just fools who deny Love and think all men vermin!

Brian Johnston
1st of November 2018