Still freshly on the cusp of the New Year, here’s to going beyond our edges, to taking running jumps into wild leaps of faith: The EDGE and I (Spoken and Written by S.Plakson) I’ve never lived on the Edge. Or near it, really. Or in the fabulously fabled Center. I’ve mostly been mired in this marsh of a Middle. Like a toothless crocodile. You know the Edge, the legendary Edge. Seems everybody else has danced on it in toeshoes. Bragged about making love on it, in a sleeping bag under the stars. Setting fires on it, sending smoke signals to folks at the other end of the universe, sitting on their Edges, sending smoke signals. I’ve heard tell of the Edge, alright. But my mother wouldn’t let me go. It’s different now, though. Life’s ever so much shorter now. So call me to the Edge and I will come. But be sincere. And stand there and wait for me, like you promised. Yes, if you call and mean it, I will come. I will reach for a branch and yank myself out of the muck and begin to walk. To where the sun shines from. And the moon shines over. To where I’ve never been invited before and am somehow expected now. Yes, I will trudge to the Edge, feet heavy with fear and mud from the Middle muck still stuck and left to dry and by the time I reach it I will be free of the dust of all those centuries. Clean and whistling. And when I get there if you are there smiling Why, I will skip along that old Edge. Why, I will tra-freakin’-la at the top of my lungs. I will waltz and I will teeter and I will stand on one leg and I will dare oblivion to come and get me. Maybe I will fall and fall and fall forever and a day Maybe I will, so what At least I’ll have direction and the wind in my hair and the lightest of hearts and no appointments to bore me and no one feeling sorry that I fell. I’ll just keep on free falling. Why -- I’ll make it my profession. Yes, I’ll become an expert, first-class faller cutting z-shapes in the air with my skirt around my ears twirling downwards at breathtaking speed so that all the folks sitting on branches along the side are too afraid to wave for fear that they’ll fall, too and that’d make me giggle all the way down and down and down into eternity. Or perhaps whilst I were standing at the Edge looking over and out and beyond and through all the illusions, I might fly. But no one has to go on about flying. Too much has been made of it already. Yes, I think to fall might be the more exhilarating of the two. Spirits fly, so there’s plenty of time for that. Humans fall. But, ah, to fall forever, masterfully, in somersaults and swan dives, no shrieks of terror, only screams of laughter and curses of laughter and sobs of laughter. Now, that would be something. So, call me to the Edge and I will come. I will show right up. I may not choose to fall at first, it’s true. But push me, if you please. Tell me that you love me and give me a sweet, light shove and bid me adieu and dangle your legs over and eat a sandwich and watch me ’til I’m a small happy dot in the blue. https://youtube/watch?v=8mJ4i_rc5D4
Posted on: Sat, 03 Jan 2015 17:03:45 +0000
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