Well, I am sorry to say that this is not a terribly good poem, but I claim jet-lag as an excuse. However the event that I describe was quite striking. As my plane took off out of Chicago, we went right up over the lake. On this particular day, at that particular time, the foggy day and the grey lake were the exact same color, and there was no visible line between them. So as we went rushing toward the shore of the lake, one thought involuntarily ran through my head: ‘So, this is the edge of the world.’
Firmly ensconced in the airplanes belly,
Of modern man’s invention a marvel,
A creature of steel serving our whimsy,
Laughing at distances that made kings tremble.
The airplane is humble, despite its power
And with little regard for weather or rain
The machine flies above every tower
Far into the sky it extends man’s reign.
Though awe inspired at flight’s beginning
While the foggy heavens us received
Out of the window my eyes were peering
And an ancient mystery perceived.
The edge of the world rushed up to greet us
And briefly within me, Wonder arose.