The Swing on the Edge of the World

It was in her dreams-the only place that offered the relief from reality. She would go running through the clouds, past the sky, and upwards-to the universe. It was there each night she would reach The Swing-the swing hanging on the edge of the world. She'd reach up and tuck pieces of hair back behind her ear before wrapping her hands around the rough ropes that hung from two frozen, winking comets, and she'd hoist herself up, where there was no place more comfortable than the hard wood of the seat. It was a primitive piece of equipment that many would think ironic in a realm of such magnificence, and this was exactly why she loved it so much. The stars all around would twinkle and dance to the symphony of her movements, the kicking of her legs back and forth. She'd begin to laugh, where her sounds would echo into the abyss, and she'd know that at least here they would live on forever. Her freedom mocked the atmosphere and the curving outline of the Earth beneath her... She was finally alone, where no one could reach her, where not even the planet slowly spinning below could hold her within its grip. That world no longer applied to her; she was simply an observer... Out on the edge (literally!), blissful in her privilege-her ability-to be ignorant. At intervals she'd tilt her head back and close her eyes, feeling the pushes and pulls of gravity in a place where such a thing was impossible, and a small smile would form on her face.

And so she would sit, and with these feelings sweetly rock to and fro in the crisp silence, as space's rich swirls of silver, gold, black, and navy blue served as her backdrop. Suddenly, however, something within her would stir, and she'd open her eyes and quiet her limbs. It was then, as the movements of the swing grew less and less, that she'd wrap the soft crooks of her arms into the ropes and hold both hands within her lap, and gaze outwards. With her attention gathered, she would then wait expectantly, until she'd glimpse a sliver of the shy sun's yellow-orange rays just beginning to peek out from behind the Earth's crescent sphere. Morning was rising over the world.

Her eyes would fill with calm and wonder as they became bathed in the modest hues, and she witnessed the sun gain more and more confidence, revealing more and more of its clear light to her dwarfed being. The swing was now almost completely motionless as she continued to watch the spectacle with bated breath. Her legs dangled submissively as she experienced the twinge of a revelation; a revelation that gently asked, that lightly prodded, might the world be beautiful?

It was then that her perspective shifted, panning out a slightly greater distance, and upwards, until she was looking at herself from behind, with the whole of the Earth and the sunrise before her. It was as if a piece of her soul had escaped her body, and had allowed her to see omnisciently, free of the confines and limits of her own being. It was with this perspective that she watched herself and the swing, and witnessed its motion finally cease entirely. She was able to stay within her dream only a few more moments, and she spent these seconds cherishing the scene, and willing it to memory.

She would then awaken to the same sun's rays fluttering upon her eyelids in the world of true reality, and she would spend her day intermittently looking skyward, dreaming of the time when she could go back...back to The Swing... the swing on the edge of the world...