Edging-A Forward (Story, not a poem)
by Melina Raven Maness Diebold
We're all edging towards something. Sometimes, even when we feel ourselves moving and even when we direct our movement, we don't even always know completely what the goal is. Perhaps and in-depth look is required to decipher our inate, psychological penned maps. Why are we always looking for X when we don't even know what is there? X marks the spot, but the spot has what relevance?
What needs drive us in our respective directions? What sweet-nothings does what bird whisper in to which ear? Does it always speak our language, is there room for interpretation, or is something merely lost in the translation.
Yes, we're all ever edging towards something. Like some ancient rite or the puppeted dance of some omnipotent deity, our feet move always towards the edge. Our toes instinctly peer over the edge, kissing danger while our arms twitch in saviour balance-act throws. What grand mystery do we hope to glimpse as we edge nearer?
Author's Note: Beginning work...others to follow.
Posted on 11/05/2003
Copyright © 2022 Melina Raven Maness Diebold
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Thomas K. Hunt on 11/08/03 at 11:08 PM|
There is that lingering question that we all seem to have and you've expressed it very well..Takes me back to a poem I wrote years ago..Work in Progress..Thanks for sharing
|Posted by Don Coffman on 11/09/03 at 11:10 PM|
Intriguing thoughts, indeed. This could probably serve as a wonderful foundation for some verse, too. The language and flow are just about right. Nifty stuff.