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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Life on the edge would certainly become a novel, if I included all the chapters of my life’s journey from that of an old soul, from pure consciousness to egg and sperm colliding, to embryo, to fetus, to that of a baby, a child, youth, a teenager, a young adult, a middle aged man, this old man who has walked the walk of the living and the dead with ghostly shadows floating in night time forests blanketed by sheets of blackness, permeated with flakes, specks of light from distant planets, long lost stars, forgotten lives, as the reflective moon, on high, tries to shed light upon the nightly shadows, brighten the edges of all the black clouds that fill all the empty spaces above the tree tops. Life on the edge – I have been tripping – have gotten up, have fallen from grace, yet stands up to face adversity, have been trapped, yet set myself free, been lost yet have found my way back to myself. Life on the edge – time reveals all, all the efforts, all the accomplishments, all the failures, the defeats, and all the losses become weightless in the light, of an old man who sits alone, on his own locked up in the cage of his own design, his own making as nightmares continue to haunt - to the end of his journey. Life on the edge – has been sharp, dull, keen without tears, in spite of all that life, fate, karma, choice have lain upon the experiences this old soul has suffered, endured, enjoyed and yet the dreams of this child – before and after he became – still linger on in the fading embers of his life’s journey even if they are but ashes blown by cold cruel winds putting out the raging fires that once lit up the skies and wormed the heaven and the hearts of a few mortal women. Life on the edge – of this plane, this dimension, this universe – can it really be as we see it ?, is it karma ?, is it fate ?, is it design ? Does history repeat itself ?, does it come back to haunt us ?, in another time, in another place, in a different space. Life on the edge – next time around – will be a prayer to never, ever have to live on the edge again, to know no more emotional pain, no poverty of heart, soul, the stupidity and thoughtlessness of those in control, those in the know, of the nature of this old man who has shown – specks, flakes of light, light that has burned so bright, has flickered, has long since taken flight. B. J. “A” 2 March 10th 2004
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