Edge of Sunset

You might ask, "why edges?" Aaaahhh. The answer lies in the complexity. In the middle of the river, at its greatest depth, well, it's water, flowing, moving, powerful, yes, but still water. Where the river touches the shore they join in a dance. Where exactly does the river end and the shore begin? In the heart of the forest, at least a deep forest, it's trees, but at its edge lives smaller brush, more wildflowers. And the animals, oh they love the edges. They can dart out to eat and rush back in for shelter. Or sit at the tip of a tree, the raptors that is, and watch who dares dart out thinking they will eat only to become their lunch. Yes, edges are more complex.

And, there is more challenge, danger even, at the edges. Birth. Death. Standing at the edge of an airplane door with parachute strapped on. Living at the edge of a failing marriage - to stay, to leave, what about the kids, the debt. Yes, the edges hold the challenge. And in the risk, the danger, the complexity, I find my growth. Like the outer ring of a tree. That is where the life force is.

I know of course that there is a time and place for middles. Days I need peace, stability, comfort. But not all my days. For some, I choose edges.

So, the latest in the Edgy series is Edge of Sunset. You know the ones. Those rare times that day doesn't just melt into night but goes down in flames. A brief time, especially at the shore or in the desert, when it's hard to tell where sky, land, water end, where the edges really are. And, is it real? Did I really see this, that brief glimpse of red and pink and purple melting into a haze of colors; or did I only dream it. Perhaps it came at the edge of sleep and wakefulness. Still, it is an Edge.