unfinished

A Poem by Stina

Just some incomplete thoughts from my flight home.

Headlights flow along the highways like platelets through a vein. The lifeblood of a city that has forgotten how to sleep. I watch as the fissure between heavenly splendor, and man's pale copy, splits. Until it is a perfect line, separating the mystery of nights embrace, from those who would hide from it. Choosing instead to wrap themselves in the protection of florescent tubes and street lamps. But way up here, there is no hiding. Nose pressed to the window, I try to soak up every moment of reassuring embrace that a pure nights sky can afford me. If I look hard enough, long enough, can I meld with it? Push through the barrier of the Plexiglas, erasing individuality by osmosis. For a few brief moments, it almost works. Yet everything that goes up, must come down, right? So as the plane descends from its dizzying altitudes, I am left to re-merge with civilization. Becoming just another platelet, bound for the insomnia, of home.