They speak of the leading edge as the crown,
A summit to conquer, a place to lay down.
But we—restless creators, infinite and vast—
Know no edge, no end, no final act to cast.
For we’ve never stopped,
not once in our flight,
No ceiling above us, no limit in sight.
We are the boundless, the ever-unfolding,
The infinite essence, no power withholding.
To stop is to wait for some greater decree,
A verdict from something more grand than we.
"Did I vibrate high enough? Did joy light my way?
Were my thoughts tuned perfectly every day?"
But nothing looms larger than what’s within,
No God, no Source, no judgment of sin.
For we are the givers of meaning and form,
The authors of calm, the makers of storm.
We define who is God, the Source, the Divine,
The Universe itself bends to our design.
No Santa Claus keeps a list in the sky—
We are the dreamers, the why and the why.
So, step beyond edges, the edges will fade,
As we shape the infinite with what we've made.
There is no summit, no final applause,
For we are the essence, the ultimate cause.
No more waiting for permission to be,
No force outside us holds the key.
For the edge is a story, and we write it true—
And beyond every edge, there’s always more you.
💋Kristen
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash
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