Poetry shot:

Life is like a flight.

Except no one remembers how they got on the plane. People remember their first memory to be in this plane

Yet no one knows where this plane will end up

They’ve never experienced the world of the land, the world of the sea.

Never have seen roads or cars,

Nor lions or gazelles

Nor trees or leaves.

Some are cramped during this flight,

Uneasy, restless.

Some have more space,

Even with the concept of privacy

And some have the most space,

Large rooms, sleeps with full body stretches,

The ones you can only do with no one watching

But there’s an elephant in the room

Ehem… plane

No one seems to care too much about where this plane is going!

Who is driving this plane?

How long is it for?

How did we get here in the first place?

A man looks around and sees

Families laughing

Friends eating

Kids cheering

He too has laughed, ate, and cheered though, he realizes there will always be activities on this plane that make him laugh, eat, and cheer

He questions himself.

Why am I questioning myself.

My time on this plane has been going so swell,

Why not continue my time as it has been for so long?

Then he questions himself:

But why?

Why are we on this plane?

There must be a pilot controlling this plane,

or a machine automating the flight of this plane

or something that is controlling the fate of this plane

there has to be something controlling this plane