.39 fairy-dust

currently listening to
see you soon,
coldplay

i want to return.
i want to come home.

i'm sorry,
so, so sorry,
and i want to thank you
for listening to me drivel.

i’m on a flight
(i chose to board,
though it was hard -
airports are emotional places,
and the security staff don't know how to smile - )

and zooming
and simultaneously feeling like we're going nowhere
towards the sun
chasing the light
illuminating its self-destinating path.
i can tell
it's directly ahead
however
the side window won’t let me see it.
all i vision
is the streaks of yellow and pink light
stretching from the core
across the blanketesque
though not the source itself.
i strain,
twist myself
backward my chair
deform my nose
and get so intimate with the wall
that i'm attracting looks most peculiar.

i'm choosing to trust the streaks
and furthermore,
follow where they're pointing me to
as opposed to aiming at the streaks themselves.

i can only hope
and trust
that it's not an illusion
and that something,
no,
that thing,
is really there.

i'm told that because of the trust,
it will be.

like fairies.

believe the magic,
disney told us.
clap your hands,
rub the lamp.
first star to the left,
then straight on till morning.

when i was a kid i even used to experiment,
explore,
try all kinds of things to discover the code,
the secret,
that elusive combination of
wishes and words and wanderings
that would be my fairy-dust.

anyway,
maybe it seems insane.
this creation
of cyclical trust and existence
that could as well be nothing at all.

but i've decided that
i've got nothing against fairies and genies and magic.

and
whereas recently
i'd end this saying,
i guess that i can only wait to find out,

today,
i'm choosing the fairy-dust alternative -


i believe streaks lead to the source,

i believe in jesus.