| We have come home again from a journey that | | | | So chimerical a people! |
| never was | | | | With uncanny capacity for spontaneous consumption |
| Don't we end up on this road every other time? | | | | of good and evil |
| Eight hours I had counted since we took off | | | | A shuddery beatification of profanity |
| The exact duration of our entire flight | | | | The roars of laughter, the friendly pats on shoulders |
| And we have landed at the same place we departed | | | | Their loved ones have come to welcome them back |
| from | | | | Doors are slammed, hands are waved, the cars are |
| It has always been this way. | | | | zooming away |
| Though our Pilot was said to be asleep | | | | These people have just returned from nowhere. |
| We were cleared for take off | | | | Then I hear the words of Zarathustra again... |
| All the time the Control Tower spoke to us, not the | | | | They need our pity. They found us before looking for |
| Cockpit | | | | themselves |
| I knew something was wrong | | | | But how could I with this feeling of distanceeven want |
| Our pilot would wake up and take charge, it was said | | | | the modern man to find me |
| Alas! It never happened, but the Plane continued flying | | | | It is the only life they know; perhaps I came before my |
| Life in the cabin was normal, the passengers never | | | | time |
| complained | | | | Soaked in pity I head for home where unknown the |
| They ate and drank like gluttons | | | | worst awaits |
| Even when our pitiable arrival was announced, more | | | | Sara my maid rushes out to meet me |
| wine was ordered. | | | | And with impetuous alertness blurts out the usual |
| Ladies and Gentlemen you flight has landed! The voice | | | | "welcome sir" |
| from the Control | | | | She makes for the car trunk and hurls my luggage into |
| I pick up my luggage to go down, steeped in indignation | | | | the house |
| Shame we did it in auto, when we had a pilot | | | | The same luggage she packed this morning |
| But the next words from the Tower freeze me on my | | | | At the time I should be at my destination 10,000 |
| feet | | | | kilometers away |
| When it announces we had landed at take off point | | | | I had flown for eight hours only to arrive back at my |
| Who would allow an auto flight into their airspace | | | | house |
| anyway? | | | | And my maid has unscrupulously welcomed me back. |
| I look though not with dismay, but pity and compassion | | | | Not a note of surprise, no anxiety as to what went |
| I blame not the pilot, human is he after all | | | | wrong |
| It is the system that I blame | | | | But why would she anyway? A journey begins from |
| One that permits a sleeping pilot to fly a plane | | | | its destination |
| But who is the system - Man or Beast? | | | | She clatters happily as she dutifully puts away my |
| A form or Void? Myth or reality? | | | | things |
| It is these people! The passengers, my fellow | | | | It is the only the life she knows, I have come home |
| passengers | | | | again. |
| They are already disembarking happily | | | | |