An Ancient Wooden Bridge
An Ancient Wooden Bridge
An Ancient Wooden Bridge by Michael Maxwell
I stand on an ancient wooden bridge,
The water passing meaningfully below,
in the steady rushing ruffle of the flow,
Coursing its destined route,
To the mouth somewhere yonder below.
I pause on the brink of perdition,
and the only bridge that I know is burning below,
with the lucidity of life in the truth I know,
To come forth as gold,
Into the flame I go.
I soar beyond the precipice of love,
And in retrospect place values on the hearts
That endured the deepest trials of my soul,
And have shared the weight of burdens they’ll never know.
And into God’s vast heart I will return,
Carrying with me the kinships that I’ve earned,
The demons and ghosts moving on silently below,
In the steady rushing ruffle of the flow,
Coursing its destined route,
To a place I’ll never know.
