From the littlest one-celled critter to the most excellent of worlds, we characterize ourselves by our outskirts. Our limits.
I am me, in this way, I am not you. We are sheltered inside our region. Be that as it may, fringes can be spots of precariousness, of risk.
Cool fronts crash into warm. Dynamic vitality detonates.
But… it’s at the edges, the boondocks between us, where thoughts are traded, where information is picked up.
I am me, however I should push past my fringes in case I’m ever to genuinely know you.
We cross outskirts, investigate new boondocks… boondocks of the heart, outskirts of the spirit, and in case we’re fortunate, we get back home once more, having learned extraordinary exercises about our mutual predetermination, with the end goal of our movements, both internal and outward.
It’s not just to see the inconspicuous, but rather to bring those dreams home, to impart to those we adore.