Sleeping at Forty Thousand Feet
The steady thrum of the engines is not the roar of the crowd, although my heart beats the rhythm of it's music. Sit behind the audience and be embraced by the familiar, the lullaby sounds, close my eyes and wake up a stranger in a foreign land. This is a concert as familiar to me as the nights I have slept alone, which are too familiar as I am no celebrity or rock star, I am but a traveler. A seeker of opportunity, adventure and chance.
Oh, chance. I have come this far to see you, no more to flee mediocrity, not to buy souvenirs. I chase you on strong legs that when reluctant are driven by the faith my friends have fueled me with, flown by passion and curiosity, and supported by the lullaby that will one day lay me to rest, still seeking chance, but at home.
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Oh, chance. I have come this far to see you, no more to flee mediocrity, not to buy souvenirs. I chase you on strong legs that when reluctant are driven by the faith my friends have fueled me with, flown by passion and curiosity, and supported by the lullaby that will one day lay me to rest, still seeking chance, but at home.
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