Through mottled plastic and scratched glass
My vision falls on steel, stretching to the horizon,
Where sunlit clouds blur as we launch,
Reaching into the western sky,
Extending the light, running after the sun,
A day like the others.
Lists to do, boxes to check,
And nothing particularly special
To dream about yesterday.
Yet these are the days as much as any other,
That make up life. While I am
There are forever more boxes to check
And longer lists to be found with barely a glance.
Afternoon approaches and
Stress builds with infinite boxes undone.
Panicky plans form,
To work faster,
And flap plaintively
Even following the setting sun,
Without looking up this moment would have passed unseen.
The rules that dictate how to experience,
Would have kept me forever looking to tomorrow.
There would have been no stress about this missed sight,
Yet I would have been poorer for it,
Focused on the next,
Instead of experiencing the present, and