Flight of the Gods
These images are a study of the transcendental nature of flight. When we look up at jet aircraft crossing the skies they appear to be moving by magic, almost as if they are supernatural, as if they are gods and goddesses passing over us.
I can’t help thinking about where they might be going. Have they spent too long watching over us, decided that they are no longer needed or wanted? Have they decided that it is time to move on?
When every god has been declared dead, and the goddesses are laid out under their shrouds, billowing gracefully in the passing breeze, when the post mortems have all been completed, and the causes of death established, then their immortal spirits will finally take to the wing, and head out beyond the skies.
As they head for the heavens, pencilling crystal clouds across the naked sky, we mortals stand necks craned, eyes strained, hanging our hopes and dreams on the trails that are left in their wake.
In answer to death, we have no words.
And now we are on our own, the masters of our own destiny, free to create the world we want. No one will tell us how to live our lives. We are the children who’s parents have gone, left alone in the world. We plant the seeds we inherit, entranced by our genius, but in the back of our minds we suspect our children will reap the whirlwind.
The gods, and goddesses look back one last time, remember how they had wanted to share the power, had been trying to fashion our finest hour. Loving us all, but pinning their hopes on the ones who had been blessed with the gift of empathy. But we were also the ones who were cursed with the burden of empathy.
While the blissful ones carried blissfully on.
And in the jet stream the whispers of crystals slowly disperse until we mistake them for clouds, and we realise we are alone. We have become the new gods.