The Edge is a Good Place to Go Beyond

author’s note:

Today, I mark the birthday of a friend now gone…

Someone who, like the captain of this poem, refused to be controlled by fear.


THE EDGE IS A GOOD PLACE TO GO BEYOND

In the beginning
the world was indeed flat...

its roundness was discovered
millennia later
by a crusty dark-eyed captain
who’d gained riches and fame
through a lifetime of struggle

but in the dry dock of retirement
he festered, dissatisfied--
unaccustomed to living small.

Finally
our hero shouted to the walls:
“I’d rather fall off the edge of the Earth
 than die here in this parlor!”

That wail birthed a wild thought:
he could escape his malaise
by seeking that which
every mariner feared:
the edge of the Earth.

If the world did indeed
have an edge, as was said
he’d find it
then plunge over that border
to see what, if anything, lay beyond--
though the act
might likely mean his death.

Afraid that his reasonable concern
might begin to protest
the captain did not hesitate
but gathered a few essentials together
then shoved out from shore
in a little wooden boat.

He rowed with hardly a pause, day and night--
traveling past continents, reefs, and islands
until he finally arrived at
a vast expanse of ocean
uncharted and lying quietly ominous
all the way to a hazy blue horizon.

Afraid
the question mark in his thoughts
might pin his progress
the old explorer did not hesitate
but continued on.

As all signs of land disappeared
he lost awareness
of time and distance.
Body and mind became numb:
he ceased to think
he forgot himself
he moved by rote.

Not until the light dimmed
did he break from this stupor.
Low storm clouds pressed down.
He soon saw where waves
pulled back upon themselves
as if afraid of falling off.

Yes--the edge of the world.

“Blessed be me,” that seaman shouted.
“Deliverance!”

So close--one big push
might send the boat over.
Our captain could feel the air sizzling
with the tension of unreleased energy
as he stood and stared into
the billowy mass of dense gray cloud
swirling just beyond those waters.

He could feel the thrumming
of a deep murmur issuing out
from that fog--
a resonance of cold mystery--
maybe a monolith without mercy--
maybe a beast.

Then, for the first time on his long voyage
our hero hesitated.
For the first time, he could not break the grip
of animal instinct.

So, as he had many times in the past
when the ego could not accept
shameful defeat
he summoned those magic words:
"I’d rather die!"

The deadlock broke then--
man and boat plunged ahead
into the wild mix.

But in an instant
his little boat stopped--
stuck
in the churning threshold--
held by an unseen force:
the stern hanging on the tip
of the last wave crest,
the bow immersed in twirls of fog.

What checked him there?
Well, you just don’t jump through barriers.
Somewhere, it is written:
true freedom must be earned
by work that swells the heart
until the bonds burst.

So even though our mariner
worked the oars
into two frenzied blurs
the boat did not budge.
The worn boards shook
as if ready to explode
from mounting tension.

This captain believed
he contained the inner strength
to break through any wall
but
he also had enough common sense
to doubt.

In fear of this doubt
he rowed and strove and cursed
until the cage of his body burned
with golden intensity.

But such honorable determination
doesn’t necessarily guarantee success
unless...

you're butting against an artificial barrier:

because false walls must eventually fall
if we refuse to relent.
That’s the law.

And so,
after a long short time
the tiny boat finally shot
beyond the edge--!

That invisible wall then ceased to exist
since barriers, once broken
are no longer barriers.

And what is a world without an edge?
A round world!

Here’s another natural fact:
a circle will return the traveler
to where he or she first began.

Thus, our navigator
(feeling both humbled and proud)
was able to find his way home
by following the curve
of the new Earth.

An old story, which I tell again because
I believee
at present we sense the presence
of another invisible barrier
blocking our progress:

an obstruction within
holds us at the threshold
between where we were
and where we need to be--

we’ve gone too far to go back
yet seem unable to go forward
though many strive and strain.

So we fester, dissatisfied
and act out our frustration
in myriad ways.

My hope is:
eventually we’ll fear the destruction
brought on by living small
more than we fear the unknown
that awaits beyond the edge

then work harder against our doubt--
our doubt about what we can be and do--

work until higher instinct
finally triumphs over lower.

But until that time
our grand adventure will remain
a bittersweet story filled with greatness and folly
in the wonder book
of this green planet.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton
40 New Fables: ebook