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One soul said, “Don’t take to flight.”
A vision: landing lights fade from sight.
But those lights never appeared.
Just a figment of all he feared.
The plane never did arrive.
A hundred families mourn & cry.
How, oh how, did they get lost?
Not a moment tempest-tossed.
Madman or mechanical fluke?
An evil genius at once a kook?
Maybe a magician or a black hole?
A flipping of magnetic poles?
The riddle stupefies and confounds.
Why no plane upon the ground?
If never the day comes when we know,
perhaps we’ll have to learn to grow–
outthinking the narrow confines
of our simple 4-D minds.
By B Gourley in poem, Poetry on September 2, 2017.
