Everybody stops six feet from the edge. For a while I did too. Corralled by the expectations of those around me that were reinforcing my place and lasooing my wild ideas. But the edge was tempting. The idea of a complete alteration from the plateau of my current existance soon became the desired alternative.
The first time I saw the Grand Canyon while others gawked mezmerized at the whole panorama, I was the one on my belly head crained over the rocks. There was a deep deep canyon, so vast and barron, and there at the bottom a tiny green vein that runs the whole way through. Like observing from a cloud the world so far removed down below.
When I met the painter I started to explore the fringe. We left the world of the mundane, and drove as far away from the city.. That is the place I have dwelled and existed for several decades, and it is the place that I am now, suddenly unteathered by the restraints of a conditioned world. The blueprint has been ripped up. The foundation removed by an impulsive angry man. With devestating consequences.
Three generations of impact. Maybe four if we consider the painters grandfather. But that chapter will be explored later.
I would prefer to go back to the very beginning.
Think of me the happy, prone to fantasy, with a very active imagination, a place where anything is possible. Him, the Mocking Bird, adapting for convenience, finding a nest that suited his long term needs and moving in, singing my song.
Comments