Poetry

Edges

a swampy pond does not have clear divisions
between land and water
where one begins and the other ends

edges blur and confound
we could accidently plunge waist-high
disturbing cattails and tadpoles

it is like finding ourselves gratified
we can’t distinguish between air and space
or the unseen boundaries

some parts of the world are diminishing
yet we plummet ahead
trusting there is an edge and not extinction

there is a distinction
even if we cannot see it
we act as if it is murky when it is not

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Uncertainty