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Location:Texas, USA Naturalized US Citizen of Irish extract -   Fixed Wing and Helo trucker.Interests: "The Absurdity of Man". I am a proud supporter of Blarney, Nonsense, and Hooey. I enjoy being a chopper jockey, and trying to figure the world, people and belief systems out. I'm just not very good at it, so it keeps me real busy. I scribble, blog, run this website, mess with rental houses, ride motorbikes, and read as much as I can. I went solo 44 years ago, and I like to say I'm gonna get me a real job one day. When I grow up. ("but not just yet, Lord, not just yet") For my aviation scribbles see www.chopperstories.com.... enjoy! I wish you Peace in your Life. May you always walk with the sun on your face, and a breeze ruffling your hair. And may you cherish a quiet wonder for our awesome Universe. Life isn't always good. But it is always fascinating. Never quit.
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My Refuge is a Sunlit Sky




My refuge is a Sunlit Sky


No man can wander 'round this globe
A staff in hand and hermit robe
From child-like fresh to well-scarred old
And fail to note so many ills.

He may be brilliant, rich in skills
And never want for bread or gold
But if there lurks a heart beneath
The baking soda white smile teeth
Then surely he will ponder grief
And search at times for sweet relief?

I wonder if you asked me where
I go when all around is noise
If knocking on my creaking gates     
You poked behind the cool and poise
What would you find to give you thought
Assuming that is what you sought?



My refuge is a sunlit sky
Above an ocean, where I fly
Alone and musing, slapping blades,
A thoughtful place where glory fades
Horizons far that seem to call
Like peering down a marble hall
Ten thousand gleams of scattered light
And waves that march right out of sight.

No land, or ship, or man roams here
No hate, nor lust, not even fear
Just day that followed restless night,
Just blue, and grey, and flashing white
The cosmic dance, another Time
The sense that this so simple rhyme
May touch more closely on Life's theme
Than stumbling through my waking dream.

No dogma, laws or preachy meme
Should be allowed upon this scene
A silence reigns upon my stage
The quiet turning of a page.

I loved the burbling, gentle flight
That tried to make an ache come right
The wistful search for a missing spoke
The wheel that turned, although half broke,
I wonder what it was I sought
And that I somehow never caught
I wonder if I'll ever rest
And count those days among my best.





Francis Meyrick





Last edited by Francis Meyrick on October 21, 2016, 3:57 pm
We little humans, hurtling through the Universe on our tiny, pale blue dot, will find few answers to Life's great mysteries. But we should at least find many of the questions. To write is to ask. To seek. To grope. With humility, and humor. Peace.
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