ahhh, amelia, we knew you once
or were you once,
or both...
how well we know that flight in the night
alone, dispirited
heavily loaded
our destination no longer in sight.
minds floating like joni's in such clouds
even only five feet off the ground
the feeling can be frightening
disorienting
a fear of heights.
we all seek those arms
to hold us, protect us, guide us
to safer harbors and runways
when we feel
with a gush of wind
we, too, could crash and burn.
lost in the south china seas or remote irian jungles
of kathmandu
somewhere alone
on lazimpath or gairidhara.
amelia, joni, these muses
remain idyll dreams
while drifting in the skies
of sound all around
until
one moment
the record
stops.
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