Beyond the Atmosphere

I stood staring up at the spaceship for the longest time. Wondering if I should board. Lost, frightened in the ominous shadow, cast by its immense egg shaped body, blocking out the sun. Dare I take the risk and climb that great metal staircase up to that tiny door situated somewhere high, itself already lost in the clouds, up on its sleek body, the only blemish on an otherwise perfectly aerodynamic piece of engineering wonder. I was afraid of that long tiring climb. Would I make it? Or would the seemingly endless trudge, my feet clanking monotonously against the grated metal of the steps, one at a time, upwards get the best of me? I was afraid I would fail to ever reach what I longed for... to blast off.

And if I did, would I have survived even that? Though would it really have been safer to remain on the ground, caught forever in gravity's dependable, yet static pull. I stood staring forward at the four great fins, reaching outward, curving down to the ground to support the great mass of the ship with a might that belied their delicately thin appearance, and encompassed in their midst, coddled in their grasp, sat the boosters, a conical trinity of dormant power, hissing quietly among themselves, ready at any moment to explode, belching out their deadly mixture of hydrogen and oxygen. Would it really be safer to remain?

And now I sit in the ship, apprehensive of where we will go. Questions of space and time rip through my mind as the ship raises itself slowly, cautiously from the earth. As it pulls out of the atmosphere, I feel the last remnants of gravity slowly fading, and find I am just as lost and confused in this new world, where up is down and down is no where to be found.

Where is this ship headed, to what great unknown system is it bound? I do not trust myself at the stick, at the helm. I cannot guide this immense beast alone, through bright, gaseous nebulae; past slowly dying dwarfs; through the vast empty blackness; toward dry, desolate, sulphurous planets; or those abundant in water and life. Surely I would pilot this thing, in an attempt to reach the stars, straight into a black hole, the smoldering remains of the only star I could ever hope to reach of my own volition. But then I realise, I am merely a passenger aboard this ship. In front of us He sits, in His Captain's chair. He is Pilot, Navigator, and even Flight Attendant, guiding this ship where He pleases. And though He may not take us where we like sometimes, we can be sure these engines will never falter, for He designed them as well.