Is My Horizon Unreachable?

Some moments arrive with a kind of stillness that asks you to look a little longer. Today, the sky was crossed with dark, wiry lines and the slow sweep of wings, each moment carrying its own quiet message. As I followed those shapes toward the brightening horizon, a poem began to form — unplanned, but insistent — rising out of the light which was beyond my reach.

Is My Horizon Unreachable?



I’m following an interrupted flight path
of thick, black, wiry lines
which criss-cross inside my mind,
like buckled aerial, railroad tracks
that travel for miles and miles —
endlessly from post to post,
and pylon to pylon.

Tirelessly on and on, I keep flying
toward the last tower of power
until there, on the unreachable horizon,
I see that shimmering golden light.




Beyond the last pylon, let the music carry you the rest of the way toward that unreachable light.