Jump. You stand on the edge of a cliff. You wonder if you should jump. You want to, at least you think you do. It’s exciting, freeing, unbelievably intoxicating to stand on the edge of something so infinitely dangerous and have the chance to jump. But jumping is dangerous, scary, unsure. What lies at the bottom? Is there a bottom? Maybe there isn’t, and once you jump you will fall into a million and one endless forevers. But what if those forevers are dark? Filled with fire? What if they hurt you? Torment you? Forever is forever, everyone knows that. But you haven’t jumped. Not yet. You stand on the edge and wait. What do you wait for? For peace? Peace is found in meadow, not on the edge of a cliff. For assurance? Assurance is found beneath a strong roof, not on the edge of a cliff. For joy? Joy is found in the waterfall, not on the edge of a cliff. No, you will not find these things here. Here, Risk and the Unknown are kings, not Safety and Contentment. Jump. It will destroy you if you don’t. It might destroy you if you do. But what is more frightening? Life, or life without death? Life without risk, the unexpected, the danger of losing everything? If you don’t know of hate, how can you know of love? If you don’t know of danger, how can you know of safety? If you don’t know of sorrow, how can you know of joy? If you don’t know of death, how can you know of life? Jump. Will you soar? Will you fall? Jump. Will you live? Will you die? Jump. Everything might change. Everything could change. Everything will change. But change is dangerous. Is the lack of it more so? Jump. This is only a moment. Catch it while it runs by you. These moments flee us so quickly. Feet close to the edge. Heart closer. Jump