The Edge of Forever

Before your first breath,
you agreed to this:
to walk a world where every blossom wilts,
every tide retreats,
every heartbeat is numbered—
and still,
to love it fiercely enough
to keep waking up.

You are not here to outrun the ending.
You are here to feel everything
that lives between the first spark
and the last ember.

I see you—
those whose hearts have cracked and been sewn together,
those who have bargained with the shadows of disease,
those who trace new lines in their skin
and wonder if time has left them behind.

Hear me:
these are not punishments.
They are invitations.
Each scar, each loss,
each tremor of fear
is a doorway disguised as stone.
Step through,
and you will find yourself
more vast than you imagined.

Grief will come—
as it must.
It is the moon-pulled tide
that clears the shore for joy.
Let it take you under.
Rise with it.
This rhythm, this endless sway
of ache and elation,
is the current that polishes the soul.

And now—
breathe.
Feel the weight of your own chest rising,
the echo of blood moving through your veins.
This is not guaranteed.
Not a single inhale is promised.
Yet here you are—
conscious, upright,
heart still burning like a coal
the universe has not yet blown cold.

So stop waiting.
Stop drifting as if forever is yours.
Look at your hands.
Feel the pulse beneath your skin.
This—right now—
is your proof of belonging,
your one chance
to taste the raw sweetness of being alive.

The edge of forever
is already beneath your feet.

Stand on it.
Lean into the wind.
And live
as though you finally understand
how precious it is to be here at all.