Flying

I have no desire to fly anymore

Both literally and figuratively

The thought of strapping myself

Into a long metal tube

And igniting a fuse that

Sends me through the sky

With 300 strangers

Breathing recycled air

Most don’t have a care in the world

But all I can see are the dangers

Of falling 35,000 feet into

An inky black sea

There was a time I would have killed to fly

To be on a stage as

They chanted my name

But that day never came

And for that, I am grateful

I live in peace with myself

Teaching others a gift

And writing each day

And each day I persist with

No thought of fame or success

Okay

Maybe on occasion

Thoughts

I do like this little slice of the English coast. It reminds me of my place in the world.

© John Monaghan 2025. All Rights Reserved

The Boat - 16th December 2025
Yeast - 18th December 2025

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