Wednesday, October 26, 2016


Flight is demanding, hazardous, and at times unforgiving.  Yet, for those who’ve experienced it; in control of a flying machine, there is nothing that compares to the freedom and exhilaration you experience when you leave the confines of earth to venture into the air.
As the wisps of clouds slip over the wings, or the tips of your rotors beat the air into submission, you climb sun-ward and see the world as man had dreamed of seeing for millenniums before you.
Speed is an illusion.
Time seems to slow.
Space contracts as you concentrate on the perfect flight.
Whether through the canyons of the clouds, the velvet black of the night, beneath the spectacle of the Aura, in the cauldron of a storm, or kicking up dust a few feet from the earth, there are wisps to remind us we are here and now.  We are alive and doing what we love.
I miss the comradery in the sky.
I miss the friends long gone, who can no longer fly.   
I miss those wisps from times gone by. 
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