Jumping

I approach the ledge, peaking over the ridge careful not too far. I see nothing. No
bottom visible from what appears to be an incredible elevation. I slowly creep to
the ledge holding the railing as tight as possible, white knuckles and all. From a
better view, I surely thought I would succeed in seeing the bed of this mountain. I
look back behind me to see previous perils just the same. The same scenarios and
challenges flash back into my mind. These memories secure a bad taste in my
mouth. I reminisce on the leap of faiths I had previously taken, which only resulted
in failures of face plants and pain. The last dive was from an extensive altitude,
leaving me unsure if I could progress. Knowing that I could one day traverse to
deeper cliffs, I dredged on. I knew there was no looking back and the scars would
just be a silver lining in my future. One day I will look back and appreciate the
blemishes of that affliction. With the newly found optimism, I relinquished my grip
from the rail and stepped to the farthest edge of this ridge. Finally, I gained an
impeccable image below me. There were colors of every color imaginable. The view
was of something one could only dream of, something you never knew existed,
something words could never accurately depict. However I could not gain an
accurate perception of the height I was teetering. I could not locate the bottom. I
leaned further out, knowing this jump could make or break me. I swayed back and
forth on that edge, playing with the danger of the unknown. Playing with fire had
always gotten me burned, so my logic told me not to leap, but my heart said
something great lies at the bottom or even better this jump could never end. I
could live to fall forever and live off of the high for an eternity. Wavering back and
forth, I remain there indecisive, yet leaning more and more over the edge. I live on
that edge. I live for that edge.