Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
Looking from up here
everything seems smaller.
Every world is a shadow.
Every story is a spot.
Every motion is slow, distant.
Beneath me.
My wings take me
and carry people I've never met before.
What kind of dreams, fears, longings, hopes, reunions,
farewells and ambitions am I carrying right behind me?
Above tired minds, I fly
Among clouds, among raindrops.
Thru sunshine that heat the ground and air.
Who are these sleeping bodies
that surrender themselves
so that I can take them through the skies?
Traveling above all they know
and searching something that…
Maybe they don't even know for sure what it is.
Looking from up here...
I see no threats,
and contradictions are beautiful.
Slopes earn shapes.
Draw, inspire,
signal another direction.
I am a spot in the sky.
An arrow.
A moving lightning that touches and goes.
That climbs and descends.
That takes and brings.
I touch the screens, the levers,
I trigger, calculate, report, adjust and wave.
I follow headings, intercept, identify the course, the glideslope.
Touch down.
The displays guide me.
Every sound, a warning.
Every light, a signal.
The ailerons are under my fingers,
which move elevators and flaps.
I move axis, change flight levels,
entering and exiting invisible air spaces
that guide me and shelter me.
I do my job like someone who accomplishes a mission.
Who answered the call to be where the man should not go.
Fly silver birds,
monsters of technology.
Admired and feared machines
that shorten distances
and bring people together.
I am more than a pilot.
I carry dreams.
Captain? No!
I carry people.
I bring people back.
And cross the skies with people
who crave the ground,
and then follow their own way.
In fact, life is made of ways.
And each one of them reflects precisely our choices.
This is my choice.
This is my of way life.
My vocation.
That takes me over the shadows, pains and threats.
After all,
looking from up here,
everything changes, shifts, unimpresses.
Looking from up here,
everything seems smaller.