We drift through life on the edge of a feather, floating, sailing, soaring as much & as high as we can. The creature that we are flies through an eternity of darkness until it has the good fortune to spy the bright window opening into the great hall that is life ... We enter into the glittering crowded hall & spend our long moment fluttering & gliding thru the room, trying to take it all in, trying to understand how there can be this place of light & warmth & the company of others like ourselves for even an hour in the emptiness of eternity. Somehow, with our eyes still on the mad life around us & our questions not yet answered, we find we've flown out an open window at the other end of the hall, back out into the featureless darkness, never to return.
We live our lives expecting to fly, when in fact we are flying all the time. We live craving paradise, unable to see that we are in it.
Thx to @jeffnoon for remembering Expecting to Fly, a perfect expression of wistfulness.
