The epiphany is over.  It was a nice honeymoon.  I got all excited a few times, went out to eat a lot, and considered a new life.  Silly me.

Why couldn't the Titanic fly? All brand-new and perfect, why did it have to fall more than two miles through ice-cold water to rot in darkness?

You know, we see things and we think we know.  We know things and we think we have vision.  But we feel things and we hide.  By far the heaviest things in life are not massive ships, but insubstantial fears.  

The biggest moving object ever built at the time, the Titanic left us, taking more than 1500 human beings with it.  We say it sank, pulled down beneath the surly surface of the North Atlantic.  But who are we to say it did not fly away? Is it the wreckage that makes us think it did not ascend off the sea and up into the clear dark sky? And who are we to say it did not take its passengers to a place not known to us, leaving us here below-down 2 miles or two trillion miles-stuck in the muck with our mean illusions?

I say, "Look up!" These wrecks around us are diversions from the truth, illusions that we maintain to numb our pain, anchors to keep our hopes safely restrained.  Let them fly, and let the voyage find its destination.  Let them fly.