The arc and white streaks of what appear to look like clouds, create patterned designs in the blue sky, causing a constant stream of onlookers gawking upwards. The sky is endless and blue here, minus these patterned clouds. If one chose to ignore the upward tick in the number of them, over time, it is quite fanciful. However, if you snap out of the clouds for a moment and take pause, it dawns on you that they represent pollution. The number of airplanes and flights that race and dart across this blue sky have increased, and the UFO type aircraft that circle and dip into the indigo night has increased tenfold. Loud heli’s closing in and circling around in a whirlpool of motion, fly low and spot white-hot spotlights searching for criminals and their patrol cars. It is pollution. Pure and simple. Our air and ears are assaulted on a daily basis, not to mention the disruption to our animals and birds’ homes. It is messing with the earth’s balance and mine. Balance is a necessity to thrive. Thriving is necessary to find one’s soul and manifest purpose. Noise beating around everyday, all the time, 24/7, irritates a man with a slow rise and gnawing grit. Before they know it, they lose it. Peace and harmony is what is preferred, to rumble along with verse and song. Svelte in motion the beats flow rapturously, off and on the tongue. Checkerboards, Tic-Tac-Toe white lines pollute the skies, silent mimes streaking high with onboarded lives, hopeful to escape the Covid times. Unrested vacationers seek refuge on better shores than those that have wrecked their hindered minds, impatient in patience flying high, onlookers gawk and deny the pictured airshow of wonder, high up in their blue sky.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Paul Berry on Unsplash
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