Impressions of a PilotGary Claude Stoker
Flight is freedom in its purest form,To dance with the clouds which follow a storm;
To roll and glide, to wheel and spin,To feel the joy that swells within.
To leave the earth with its troubles and fly,And know the warmth of a clear spring sky;
Then back to earth at the end of the day,Released from the tensions which melted away.
Should my end come while I am in flight,Whether brightest day or darkest night;Spare me no pity and shrug off the pain,Secure in the knowledge that I'd do it again.
For each of us is created to die, And within me I know,I was born to fly.
High Flightby John Gillespie Magee
Oh I have slipped the surely bonds of earthand danced the skies on laughter silvered wings.Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun split cloudsand done a hundred things you have not dreamed of,wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind aloftand flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.Up up the long delirious burning blue,I've topped the wind swept heights with easy gracewhere neither lark nor eagle flew.
And there with silent lifting mindI've trod the high untrespassed sanctity of spacePut out my hand and touched the face of God.
Oh I have slipped the surely bonds of earthand danced the skies on laughter silvered wings.Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun split cloudsand done a hundred things you have not dreamed of,wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind aloftand flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.Up up the long delirious burning blue,I've topped the wind swept heights with easy gracewhere neither lark nor eagle flew.
And there with silent lifting mindI've trod the high untrespassed sanctity of spacePut out my hand and touched the face of God.
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