Hot Air Balloon Poem by naux ner

Life's a hot air balloon.

We, are passengers on board.

Our dreams, relationships, values, are the sandbags.

We dropp them, one by one, to get higher.

We feel lighter, yet emptier.

Still, we get higher.

And that’s all we want to do.

Get higher and higher.

We’re not contented with the blue sky, we want to get to outer space.

Space was said to be wonderful.

With no boundaries.

We hear of these fables.

We want to see for ourselves.

How wonderful it truly is.

If only we could keep going higher.

But hot air won’t last forever.

It runs out at a certain altitude.

The balloon shrivels.

It starts to drop.

To fall.

And we get thrown off.

We get lost.

In what we believed was the most important pursuit in our lives.

In the altitude that we weren’t contented with.

When the altitude is high enough to kill us.

When we fall.

But what is falling like?

We didn’t know.

Maybe the answer was in one of the sandbags.

But wait, we threw them off didn’t we?

Because we wanted to get higher.

High was good.

Then, not now.

As we drop, we look at the world below us.

We see the green pastures, the vast blue oceans, the sandbags we abandoned.

They were always there.

But we failed to notice them.

Because we were too busy.

Busy with going higher and higher.

And higher.

And higher.

And higher.

And higher.

Only to fall eventually.

And realise.

That they were always there.

There for us.

When we were blinded by the rays of the sun.

That search for fame, fortune and pride.

For the ultimate goal of outer space.

But wait.

Why did we want to get higher?

Did we know?

Did we question?

We expect a fatal fall as we continue in the descent.

It's too late now.

We are prepared.

To die.

But.

The oceans are there to embrace us.

The vast green pastures are there to comfort us.

The sandbags are there to cushion us.

All the things that we neglected.

All the things that we forgot.

They were always there.

When our eyes were too small to spot them.

When our hearts were to tiny to let them come in.

Still, they stayed.

And they remained.

Keeping us alive.

So we can still feel the water rushing past us.

The grass pricking our sore bums.

The sand rolling down our tired limbs.

It is zero altitude.

And we are safe.

At last.