From about 40,000 feet up
I stare at the dots below
as they stare back up
at the little jet go.
And each of those dots
are points that connect
to form multiple plots,
each filled with intellect.
Often it seems like we are alone;
we stumble through life,
as a dot on our own
knowing such trouble and strife.
But, if we simply connect the dots
we might be able to see
with each line that we jot,
we simply allow love to be.
Autumn Siders 