Edge of the World

Edge of the World captionThe sun sunk down, leaving a ring of glory across the edge of the world. For Sal, the blue hour hung heavy with mystical energy that vibrated within him every time he gazed at the slow transformation from day to nighttime.

One by one, the stars and planets revealed themselves with quicksilver light, a blanket of diamonds spread across a velvet canvass.

Still, there on the edge, the wounds of the day left their mark in fading red and bruised purple light, swelling into the black that would soon clean it all away.

Sal could understand how some had thought the world was flat and that beyond that rim lay all eternity. Venturing out beyond sight filled all honest men with fear. Yet, the dazzling display above felt reassuring, as if this celestial chandelier attested to some divine purpose in the cosmos.

Sal had lost much that was dear to him, but not everything. Each day presented its own joys and depressions, stars and black holes. Through an act of will he could choose where to dwell, which path to travel. And that would make all the difference.

Did God reside in some distant realm beyond this glowing edge, veiled from the world’s suffering in all its putrescence by the sparkling gems expanding into infinity?

When peering into the darkness, Sal didn’t see God, didn’t hear Him. At such times, he both wanted God, yet rejected His nature, doubting His love.

If you exist, how could you let…

Such queries never received a reply. God doesn’t need to answer whether He exists. We wouldn’t call to Him if He didn’t. Similarly, the artist doesn’t tell the picture why he painted it in such a manner.

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