The Bridge

Posted: September 30, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

bridge
There’s the dead weight of death on my shoulder,
And a rainbow of love in my heart’s secret room.
In between life and death we’re on a bridge passing over in a slow pilgrimage.
Sometimes we step through the rungs of the decrepit bridge and we feel lost in a disastrous fall:
The horrid jaws of degeneracy gape and we feel like we could plummet,
But sometimes we dance across the rungs without regard for falling and miraculously stay upright.
Always we must keep going and never look down into the maw of depravity.
Always trying to avoid becoming obsessed with death.
We must keep our eyes on the other side where eternity is waiting and we will be freed from these putrefying bodies.

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