Pegasus

.
The higher and higher I get, the greater the
insignificance…
In my existence.
.
The drier this over-circulated air…
the weaker my resistance.
.
The smoother the ride,
the greater the relief.
The easier to greet the
strangers I meet,
in this shiny silver bird, cruising
at thirty-five thousand feet.
.
It’s like…
With every single foot I rise,
a little piece of my ego dies.
.
With every molehill that’s really a mountain,
every puddle that’s really a lake;
My arrogance and sense of self-import
are both exposed for fake.
.
.
.
High up in the sky, these thoughts will spin you out too,
(if you don’t come to know the truth)
There’s more value in being one of six billion broke men,
Than having six billion dollars and not a single true friend.
.
People give us what money can’t – balance and a sense of self.
Cos we’re all just different combinations of the same ingredients,
inhabiting the same dusty shelf.
.
.
.
[end/arken2002]