unbreathing

whenever I'm on a plane,
I look around and wonder
is God here?

Heaven is depicted as a shining place in the sky
angels gently floating among the clouds

and now we can go see them.

Maybe it's the way the sunlight
glances
revealing more than just billowing water
in droplets too fine to spy alone.
There are towers and mountains and lumpy
mashed-potato plains
with real butter soaked in

There too is the glow of white that hurts
like new-fallen snow on a clear day
or the flaming orange edges of sunset
somehow shining with their own light
(how can something so logically below freezing burn so brightly?)

I can't leave the plane.
I would suffocate, freeze, fall endlessly down through wind like cold wires slicing me apart.

is this the place where God is?

Why bother with earthly things;
to live in icy swirls and wind more like an ocean of aether than mere gas
better to stay in the far heights, weightless.