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The Bridges Of Life

For the bridges of life...

 

Life is as fragile as the morning dew upon an iris petal, as strong as the stem beneath the bearded iris, as plentiful as the proliferation of leaves from its roots, and when compared to the millennium, as short of a time as the iris lives. Life is fluid and ever changing, sustained upon a fragile thin rope bridge - at best - strung from one cliff edge to another over an empty and endless cavern. We think - no, we tell to ourselves a lie - that life is as solid as the rocks from which life's bridges hang. Yet life is near and immediate to death. For life as we know it can evaporate in the stroke of a heartbeat, or the lack thereof. And when it is gone, we are left with fragments of a life we loved or hated, it matters not. It was the life we knew. The life we thought was ours. The life we foolishly believed we controlled. Yet, did we?

 

Do we really control anything at all? By some miracle, in a moment of time fashioned by the master weavers of the heavens and the earths, from the vast universe, we are gifted years, days, or mere minutes into our own domain to do with as we please. But do we forge it into anything of significance? Can we ever hope to influence even the quietest moment in the deepest corner of heaven?

 

And do we need to?

 

Now, years later, from a point in time that seems as though it was as near as a mere few months ago, one person is grasping the bridge, and the other person conveniently whispering within self professed lies of hopeful truths that were lost to the wind. And each believes the rock is solid. But it is not. It is not for me, nor is it for you. Moreover, it is not for anyone.

 

A train derails from the tracks and leaves behind its spillage for miles on end, cargo strewn to the wayside, loose, and broken. Its golden paper tariff, the map of where it has been and where it must go lays ripped to shreds upon the ground. And puffs of steam slowly evaporate into time until they completely cease.

 

So, too, a life can derail from tracks that it had laid so long ago when life's manifest of intents and promises binding that life to the world are forgotten or ripped to shreds, and the truth is learned that we control as we defy - neither gravity between wheels and track nor the ticking of time - indeed nothing in this menial human form.

 

In this tragedy, a train fell. A human fell. A life fell, if only of rhetoric and fantasy, and its breath evaporated into nothingness at the hand of an unseen force.

 

What comes of such a tragedy? Surely, no good comes of it. Air that once filled lungs with energy now fills a gut with angst and clings heavily like smoke to the skin which neither cloth nor bristle can remove, which no shower washes away. No force - seen or unseen - can ever return that portion of your soul enveloped in the folds of broken promises and given away.

 

And what of other lives? Can one be so consumed inside one's self to think that no other life has been touched? Even the slightest moment in a glance can discern another upon a bridge. Over there, and not so far away, there lays a heart in love now strewn over trusses like the bits of your soul across the years. Beyond it is yet another, and beyond that one yet another. Were those hearts so insignificant and meaningless that they too were easily and quickly abandoned and left broken amongst more lies? And to die?

 

Can one move from one plane of existence to another without remorse? Or is the pain of that remorse the very evil from which you run, or easily discarded by vanity, or overcome by love? Indeed, love may have been sought. Indeed, love may have been found. But the chances are likely that it was there all the time in the last place ever considered - within one's own heart.

 

Here, a chapter ends. Now, a life goes on. And the truth of a promise remains unchanged.

 

Perhaps if the original manifest is pieced together once more, the ropes will have enough fiber to hold for a life time, the bridge will stop swaying, and the cavern below will loose its powerful willful fear.... And once again, the train will have direction to carry forth its duty - forging life upon solid tracks - maintaining a course of strength and honor.....

 

If for one moment peace and serenity consume your heart, or moreso, if they consume your soul, if for one moment you recommit to the promises that your heart forgot and your soul remembers well, you may once again believe in an endless love and feel the pleasure of two souls becoming one, or you may not. Either way, one truth shall prevail - We are not masters of the heavens any more than we are masters of the hells, we are merely masters of our choices, and our choices are our rails.

 

Written for my best friend's daughter.

Copyright www.sunzplace.com, 2007. All rights reserved.

 

See Also:

Do You Ever Wonder?
Those things done in life... right... wrong... or otherwise

 

About Alzheimer's
In 5 years, an estimated 15 million people will be diagnosed with Alzheimer's. That's half of today's 65 year old and older population.

 

 

 

Theodore "Ted" Golisek
June 16, 1916 - March 30, 2005
Theodore Golisek Memorial Fund

Defining Life With Alzheimer's

 

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