united flight

I stare out of the plane down at the patchwork quilt that is the ground
the horizon blends in with where the earth ends and the sky begins...
this world is massive and i am small and insignificant
i think about who i am and where i am going, do i deserve the breaks i have been given? the luck that i feel occasionally?
flying above the clouds it resembles fat that rises to the top of a pot of soup, so where's the giant ladle?

i am almost eye level with the man in the moon and he is as curious as i am, he asks "how's the weather down there?" and all i can do is shrug my shoulders and say "it's okay"