I round the corner.
The bridge is finally in sight.
It sits in the sky, seemingly miles high.
Yet I've been there before, and I'll be there again Soon.
The road is cracked, impure with potholes. But I traverse it nonetheless--
it's made to be used.
My shoes thunder silently; the cars blot out any quiet scream.
The bridge is my destination. It is my motivation.
It waits for me, like a child's toys after school.
My legs are weak, but my soul is far from meek.
I'm almost there now. But really, I never left.
I am the road, burdened by imperfection. You are the bridge, my sole
protection.
To reach you, I must be walked upon. I must be cracked and punched and kicked.
But I am just a vessel, a mortar for your pestle.
I serve. By reaching the bridge I become more than a midge.
Value is attained by the road, if only to allow passage to the bridge.
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
Triumph Over the Soul
Thơ CaA Collection of Poems pertaining to happy, joyful, endearing, and empowering poems. It is the pair to "Cracks and Faults".
