(Written on a flight from Lome, Togo, to Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso)
We sit among the clouds Moving, yet not moving.
The night closes in The world below The first to feel The darkness,
Then we who fly See the last rays Of day.
Space consumes us Insatiable.
Yet we are not consumed.
'Tis so with God We sit among the clouds,
Heaven bound ... moving ...
Our sight beholds What those below Cannot perceive.
Yet even we Must trust,
And in His care We're carried on Consumed by His Eternal presence.
© 1985 Morris Williams