Sometimes I find myself
envious of balloons, for they
can fly, travelling on
fortuitous winds, set free from
the weight of the world below them.
Balloons can see it all…
laughing down from the sky, knowing
that they’re untethered from
the madness of our comedy.
Their gaiety abundant as
the space surrounding them.
I wonder how the view is, up there
in the lofty heights of their
ever limitless levity.
In personified satire they
applaud an hysteric
derision of our innocence;
like the face of a child
who’s balloon has slipped from his grasp,
into the fortuitous winds
of unconquerable truth.
How I find myself envious
The world of writing is becoming obsolete, adopting the new instantaneous mediums of hashtags, film etc. Poetry has upgraded to the digital realms but I still prefer the more analog methods of story telling; notebooks, pens, and imagination. This week I wanted to share an excerpt from the pondering pages of my traditionalism, something of a daydream.
I appreciate the apparent irony in my sharing these thoughts. From my notebook to here, I have made digital my share in man’s dream since antiquity. Humourous how such old romanticism still passes through the ages, the minds of countless through time. I doubt there is a person who hasn’t once looked to the sky and wondered what it’s like among the clouds. Of course we have planes and gargantuan machines, but those are a poor substitution for our timeless aspiration.
While we’ve preoccupied ourselves with our complex mazes on the ground, I guess it’s that natural dream of flight itself which is truly analog in a complicated world.
What nostalgia lies in your analog passions? Share in the comments below! Cheers! -MC