“At the edge of the sky”, started out as words that kept going through my mind last night. So this morning I sat down after reading a bunch of messages, and thought briefly on what being at the edge of the sky means, or at the edge of anything. Looking out, what’s below? What it’s like to challenge gravity in what ever form it takes? To live above the storms, storms of any kind, and to still know where home lives and your feet can travel.
At the edge of the sky
The years have passed quickly,
Standing here at the edge of the sky,
Waiting in days for sweet gravity,
To pull my feet back down to earth.
Before sometimes lost here in the challenges,
Waiting to run out off the edge of the sky,
To drift and then to accelerate a direction,
So far above the dark hearts’ of storms.
Where the heads and tails of lightning roam,
As I walk to rest upon the edge of the sky,
Ready to take grasp, to melt away time,
To make for, to dive through the high storms.
Out amongst the many solid twists and turns,
Racing, free falling, so fast at the edge of the sky,
Overtaking the bolts and chains of the storms,
Heading faster, towards the green lands’ of home.
Oh, take me soaring to the edge of the sky,
Where I can show you the lands’ of time,
The places of love, life, and laughter,
Beneath, the torrid, turmoil and chaos.
The places that dwell below, at the edge of the sky.