I stand on the edge of change, only to find it is not an edge.
The edge is in my mind, my perception and fear of the different. The edge is that which is out of pattern, out of the usual. It is only an edge because I make it so, to protect myself from the effort and pain of change, afraid that all I have done up to now becomes pointless, terrified that everything I hope to do lacks meaning, lacks purpose.
I stand on the edge of change, only to find it is not an edge, but a Möbius strip, a path that reveals no steps, no breaks, is smooth and continuous, but ends up turning my world upside down.