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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