Above The Clouds

I love flying.

There’s something meditative about it for me.

The white noise of the engines—

whatever combination of mechanics and mystery makes that steady hum—

becomes its own kind of lullaby.

There’s a simplicity to it:

just sitting, letting time move at its own pace,

and gazing out the window at whatever the sky decides to offer.

Sometimes it’s only clouds—soft, shapeless, endless.

Other times it’s mountain ranges, patchwork farmland,

or the glow of a metropolis sparkling with its own pulse far below.

Once, I even flew past an active volcano—

fire and ash rising into a sky that didn’t seem bothered at all.

It’s easy to get lost in the weeds of life,

caught in the forest, trying to understand one tree.

Flying reminds me the world is vast—

that sometimes all we need is a shift in altitude,

a moment above the clouds,

to see the forest again…

and to remember that life is filled

with infinite possibilities.