On the edge

On the edge, a photo by maplemusketeer on Flickr.

Spring is springing over here.

And that burgeoning fantastic is in the air.
Change is afoot. Or perhaps at hand.

Regardless it is felt.

Ebb and flow along the sea and in our hearts as we chart our steps and then divert at the cause of life.

We may plan and save and scurry away for the thoughts of a day and another but yet things have a tendency to unravel and grow.

Or so it seems to me.

Each day on the edge. Each day anew. Each day to muse and mutter and muster and marshal one to purpose.

Alone, never, the lie often.

Gifts and abilities buried beneath the day to day dross and disconnect.

Bang a drum. Clap your hands. Stamp your feet. Stand up. Because we can.

Worth hidden in the cupboard. Behind the canned beans that no one likes.

Eeking and peeking out.

Carefully, cautiously, constantly moving forward at times in spurts; at times by a whisker.

Here we are again.

Standing on the edge.

Waves crash upon the rocks bared teeth covered in barnacles and seaweed.

We see the rocks and allow our feet to remain bolted in place.

Rather than fly......
for the edge is always an opportunity.

Beckoning beyond.
Beckoning to rise up.
Beckoning to being anew.
Beckoning still.....

Welcome to the edge.