The Paper Plane

Glides through air that

Guides its wings in fluid

Tides towards a place that

Hides somewhere along the peripheral

Sides of the

Sky.

Why does it

Fly?  A gentle

Sigh blows it on.

High above the ground that

I percieve myself nailed to

By the very laws of perception.  A far

Cry from eyes that

Pry- probing for a mere

Presence.

Acceptance coming from

Experience.  A sheet placed before the

Heavens that only the paper plane can reach in

Essence.  Only time can truly allow for the

Convalescence that comes with serious

Crashes.