A lone F-16 drifts upward, leaving in it‛s wake, a footprint of swirls to mark its passage through a magnificent ocean of clouds. Inspired by American pilot John Gillespie Magee, Jr.‛s poem, written to his parents 2 months before he perished in his Spitfire over Britain.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I‛ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, � and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of � wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov‛ring there,
I‛ve chased the shouting wind along, and 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 grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew �
And, while with silent, lifting mind I‛ve trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

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