We are building a bridge you and I,
To carry the traffic of our souls.
The question is what kind of bridge,
To span the gaping chasm down below.
Will it be a bridge of rope,
Resilient, but sometimes neglected,
A kind word, a gentle tug
And then it’s back again,
Just as we left it?
Or will it be a bridge of light,
Traced out by a flaming arrow
As it arches through the midnight sky,
Bringing tiny sparks to each caress,
And a melting fire to each other's eyes?
Or will it be a bridge of rock,
With deep foundations carved in stone,
A storehouse for our secret thoughts,
A final shelter, welcoming us home?
© 1999 Gavin Miller. All rights reserved.