The Bridge by Dennis Lange

……………….The Bridge

There lies the bridge; we cannot see the end.
It disappears in shadows ‘round the bend.
We know the way is littered by the leaves;
And, darkness falls upon it – there one grieves.
But here we are, already on the bridge;
It seems to be a type of heritage
From which we cannot flee. It is our feet
That walk upon this path without repeat.
We came from somewhere? nowhere? anywhere?
And step to-ward the end at which we stare.
It is incumbent that we make our way,
Since Time stands right behind and we can’t stay.

———————————————————

photo by Isabella Bart at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mxtMKaI/Wood+road

———————————————————

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

Advertisement