An Edge

An Edge: 

at the edge of deep woods, a river bank, or ocean's shore, it's these areas of between that I am drawn to, holding my interest with their ability to belong as a unique ecosystem of their own, gaining a position that's been carved into the landscape by their support of something other than themselves. An edge exists only for the sake of a seamless connection. 

no other reason.

and yet...

an edge lends itself in definition for something particular, a forest becomes itself from the clearing just before its spread of trees, a river is carved into the earth through the course of water's motion and retains a singular identity by the landscape of its hold, and the ocean too is devoted to the shores of its existence. There's an edge to everything, but it's not a cause of separation, and really it's an illusion of between, a piece of earth that has no inherent reality of its own other than its complete willingness to belong as an aspect of the whole. 

in this sense we're all an edge to some great wilderness, existing as a thin line of believing ourselves a separate body and mind carved through mystery, our identity dependent upon the shores of an ever larger reality. We're at the edge of some deep woods here, more truly, we're the wilderness itself, the ocean, existing within made up lines for the sake of definition. This is our ecosystem, acting as an edge to mystery, a defining line of clarity, and the truth of our reality is love, endlessly lending itself to our story of existence, ceaseless, seamless....

only appearing, briefly as an edge. 

~

Peace, Eric