Crossing Over
Running downhill, on and on,
the orange sun bearing down
on me.
Scorching me,
burning me up
I come to a river cold with ice.
Icy water flowing too fast.
Too fast.
Faster than I can run.
Flaming under that bridge.
A bridge to somewhere
from here,
from where I am.
But where is here
or there?
And is the bridge real
or a bridge of dreams.
Or, a bridge for my dreams,
leading nowhere.
If I cross over
will I plummet
into the nowhere
on the other side.
Shall I try?
Or shall I stay here
looking for the light
I find it.


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