Misread Lines

Look up.
In the sky is a stinging brightness,
not like the sun’s blinding, dull light,
but more painful.
Like a mirror, showing light forms,
it’s like a rainbow of colours,
flooding out of a prism;
escaping the binding white light.
It's hard to tear your eyes away,
captured by overwhelming sparkles.
Notice it soars; traveling.
Think of what it is,
and of what it might do.

Wait,
As this object moves,
the shine changes shape,
the sparkles shift to gray.
Wonder why.
Look up.
There's that glistening sun,
parallel to the ceasing sight.
The airplane is revealed,
boring and ordinary.
The airplane reflected the sun,
claiming nature's false glory.
Turns out it wasn't the machine,
but the nature, creating the story.