Into the timeless wood he fled, running from the night
While demons of his past gave chase beneath the pale moonlight
The man dressed in soiled rags, filth of his own making
Had spent a life unto himself, all others there forsaking.
But in the night, as shadows came, though nothing made a sound
A voice there in the dark he heard, though no one was around
Calling out to him by name, “Go… seek the Blood Stained Bridge
Its ageless timber, dogwood made, up on yon high ridge.”
Somehow, he knew the voice he heard while running from the night
Was not from friend or foe without, but came from deep inside
So run he did through elder wood, to find the yon high ridge
The voice there still was guiding him to reach the fabled bridge.
In agony, all power spent, found he the edge of night
To his dismay the demons came, with no more room for flight
The host advanced pushing him, back to yon high ridge
But when he turned toward the gorge, he saw no saving bridge
In anger with the life he'd lived, in fear of coming death
He fell to the shifting sand and cried with his last breath
“I know the selfish man I am… repent the life I’ve led”
Then turning to meet his end, appeared the Blood Stained Bridge instead.
The shadows all began to fade, his soul started to mend
As he took the first step ‘cross that bridge, the night came to an end
For on the other side there rose, the sun in brilliant light
The voice within him beckoned, “Come” then freed him from the night.
~Christopher Thor Britt