Landing at night on a motherboard
glowing of neon and amber,
I’m on a leg to another flight.
Whither or why? There’s no answer.
Through the smudged glare of reading lights
I see particles pulsing below,
en route like me, in steady state,
an alternating circular flow.
Why land, if then to carry on?
Why fly, if only to fly again?
Attraction, repulsion, motion itself,
aren’t hubris or vanity, just vain.
***
Aka metempsychosis. I surprised myself with this palimpsest of aviation, electronics and reincarnation, or at least implied resistance to such.