"Through the Eyes of Galileo". Prose poetry by Abi Vega
To the west – a sunset. Light dances over the Atantic, scattered by outer vestiges of atmosphere to give colour its intensity. Azure to amber and brick-red fire to embers to violet sea, the palette of dusk on the horizon.
Snoring beside me. Chattering ahead. The comforting hum of the engine breathing beneath. The spell breaks in the portal –
To the east – black. Fireflies far below extinguished one by one as Portugal settles under blankets of gloom and Europe already sleeps deep in her waters.
The aircraft rattles, rumbles as we hit hard air. I twist in my seat and rest my forehead against the world. The inch of air between seems white. I can feel the engine breathing. Vibrations pulse through my fingertips. Glance down –
Spain still glows fiercely, opposing the pull of night. The glamour-lights burn, with no idea of their observer. 10972m now. They see nothing, still burn and still I admire. Linked. Even for that moment. Turn back –
To the west – disappointment . Sunset sinking away, swallowed silent by hungry darkness. Sigh. Transience of beautiful things. I resent the vacuum barrier from the sun’s warmth and cavernous night closes in and swallows. But I remember –
The sun will swing, follow the clock, chase the time zones swiftly and surely one to the next, invade the night, trace a pattern of hopefulness. Light leaves me now. It filled me to bursting and as I hope, wish on my sunset, the sun also rises. The same everything. Linked. Even for that moment – A purposeful sun, an orbital jailer, alone, not lonely, free bastion of hope.