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Pilots in the Mist

Greg Lanier 1962 (Atlanta, GA)



And so it was that the tribe of man
Spewed forth into the darkness of the wilderness
In red Chevy Nomads
To divide and conquer and multiply by 2.3
Many were the prophesied meek
awaiting their inheritance
A few more were the snake oil salesmen
pedaling pictures of prosperity
guaranteed with just one more reelection
And then there were
- the deviants -
Whom before their publicly divined birthright was
- discovered
Were shunned by the tribe
For their lack of blind faith
And refusal to adopt the standards of proper society
Forced to find solace
In the perimeters
Where the lambs
Were n'er to venture
Thus they struck out following destiny’s star
Beginning their journey
Draped in coats of chagrin and sarcasm
As the lambs drew lots
For subdivisions
And when it came to pass
That they had found their destinies
- the prism’s end –
These outcasts would return as heroes
Ensconced in the armor of righteousness
‘Twas only then
That the lambs praised them as gods
And frenzied with desire
To bask in their radiance
From the front row seats of the arena
These Adventurers
Dreamers
Discoverers
Innovators
Born in a whirlwind of blinding creative illumination
Cursed with a propensity to question why
And emboldened with courage
To challenge the dogmatic fears
Designed to keep the lambs at bay
Preventing the venture
Into uncharted waters
These are the Pilots in the Mist

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Submitted by GregLanier on May 10, 2021

1:13 min read
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