Life is one hell of a trip and I think walking takes too long, I mean we’re supposed to enjoy the trip but I feel maybe I have never found a home. “Popup Passengers”, I’ve just been flying along with others waiting for something, to be welcomed?
To my fellow passengers who wish,
who pray, that ask God
will you catch this?
And before he can even nod
jump of your own accord
traveling on the hands of a clock, the days of a calendar
hoping you don’t fall forevermore
into Superman’s arms.
Entrusting that your donation
in truth, justice, the American way, in all its charms
will get you to your final destination
Which is… do you even know anymore?
Your own heart’s parameters
as if this is what you came for
an inch, a ticket, a page
telling you where to go, on a pen tip
flying from its cage
not knowing where you’ll be at the end of it.
Only escape is its own reward
or at least higher than the Challenger
Can you afford
the mental rent in the minds of men
a window seat
asking again and again
when shall we meet
my Sweet Lord.
In this life, in this can of worms
what am I moving towards
like so many others
where will my life begin
for I am no Wright brother
watching autumn leaves in the wind.
All my fellow passengers
Don’t know how or why but watch how I soar
Copyright © 2017, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.