It's where I live, it's my home:
That Time of almost feeling,
Of barely conscious perceptions
And full awareness.
I step over the line
And dance in wakefulness
And act as if committed
To the stability of one side
Or the other,
But I never lose sight
Of my safety zone,
Which is always in transition
And forever changing me.
The Space is filled
With beautiful characters,
And bright and dark,
And I touch all
And they encourage me.
Some taunt me for my lack
And weakness.
But, tip-toeing across those boundaries,
Or stepping lightly and precisely
Like a tightrope walker,
Is what I do best.
2 comments:
I think this poem is absolutely beautiful. I must admit I had to look up Liminal and I found liminality in Wikipedia and the first definition is:a psychological, neurological, or metaphysical subjective, conscious state of being on the "threshold" of or between two different existential planes.
What a beautiful way to explain the word. I love it and I get it.
Thank you. And thank you for posting a comment. That's two thank yous to you. Come back anytime.
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