The Horizon or (Thoughts From A Plane Ride)

People are so small. It seems like I write about this every few weeks, but it's so true and it's hard to really let it sink in. I mean, even mountains aren't really very big comparatively. They're simply freckles on the face of the earth.

People are so organized and tidy. We have everything laid out into blocks and roads and intersections. I sit here caught up somewhere between heaven and earth wondering whether any of that organization really matters. I'm floating on the clouds and everything around is so blue! And there's a little line where I suppose the heavens collide with the earth. We'll call that the horizon. But even then, I can barely see the separation. Where does the sky stop and the earth start? I can't even tell.

I wonder, though, if we aren't a lot like this: caught up somewhere between the physical and the spiritual. Sometimes I can't really tell where one stops and the other starts. Maybe they're woven so closely together that they're one.

I just don't know. I guess I'll call it the horizon.