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By Ibrahim Mutili

What is at the edge of the world? Not the end, and not the beginning. At the edge. There, where the horizon drops away, and the sun plummets behind the sea as if it’s been overtaken by the surge of an immense waterfall. There, were the trees spear the skies and there is nothing to be seen beyond that but an endless blue sky that perhaps goes on forever.

It does not alarm nor astound me that our forefathers believed that there was an edge to the world. It took a Columbus to make the round-world theory famous; there may have been a great many Columbuses before him, who set out one day with some provisions and a lot of determination, and kept walking and walking to that distant edge without ever reaching it. They would think to themselves: just one more mountain. Beyond that range, it must end. Or, just cross this river. And then, I’ll find it. I’ll be done. It’ll be over.

Many of them grew tired of the endless journey. Some gave up. Others perished. Most of them did not have the means to traverse so much soil and sea as we do today; in a matter of hours—two or three days by my guess—we can hop on a plane and ring around the world. We can see for ourselves today that there is no edge. There is no end. It’s the frustratingly never-ending story of a circle. Of course, the circle is so immense, so diverse, and so ever-changing, that it is not truly frustrating.

But there is a magic in the concept of an edge. Does our galaxy have the same defined limits as our world, or is it an unending journey? Today we suppose that there is not even an end to the universe. Universe, or universes? Do they overlap, or repeat, or circle back around each other? Perhaps in who-knows-how-many generations from now, we’ll be orbiting around the perimeters of the universe as we soar today around the perimeters of the earth.

I doubt I’ll be around to see it, and I can live with that fact. But the edge of the universe… still sounds fascinating. One can dream.

“Angreek87″