Flying
Up and above the world, so high,
carried by a stream of air.
Me inside an airplane, sitting,
out the window, I then stare.
The wind strokes clouds of white,
upon a canvas filled with light blue.
Can't help but feel small, in comparison,
in who I am, and in what I do.
An atmosphere away,
from the ground, where peace can truly exist.
As soon as the plane, soon lands,
I wonder, why man's heart, can't be like this.
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