Red Balloon

I want to buy a big red balloon. Tie a string to one end and send it sailing on the clouds. A captain of the big red balloon ship clouding over the fluffy white Sea, bobbing in and out through swells of misty mountains; through those grandiose sky castles that occupy mystic realms of eternal snow.

I wish to fly aloft those clouds. Those giant kings who lord over us indifferently. With gallant swipe they glide over our world silent, hissing or unbelieving loud. Ah, to wait with them on my balloon! Proudly amongst heaven’s fleet, I could survey all creation with out the least bit of hope or sympathy. Well would I trade in those things for worldly compassion and infinite love.

“Majestic cloud wanderer, traveling the azure on that blessed red thing. Where do you make birth, where hence do you set your mark?”

I come from and go to the same place always, and in between I sleep with in the slumbering dark. The destination is not the end, nor is the beginning the start. And this red balloon is no more a means of travel then it is a way to seek the heart.