Airborne

Sometimes I do not remember
History of the mind, of the body
I recount experiences in a haze
Their chronology in a heap.
Today is another matter
Frail bodies floated in the air
They were the essence of things
A fuselage is in the making
The yellow bird will soon take off
But, alas, thirty percent weight is fuel
As we enter the sunset zone
Its elfish lightness will go down.
It will become a vaporous entity.