Crossing the Bridge
The shadows of the evening
are slowly drifting by
like ghosts that haunt a foreign land
beneath the starlit sky.
With images of past and of the future
yet to come_
the heart is beating faster
while the soul is on the run.
Caught up in the headlights
the portrait of my essence_
freefalling like a feather
to the earth.
My life sleeps like a dreamer
in the corners of creation.
With love, the true foundation,
that will cradle me from birth.
Now it seems that words
become so hesitant to greet me.
Blown into my senses
like the winds against my pain.
Holding close,
The memories etched inside,
that never leave me_
kindred to the spirit,
deep and cold as winter rain.
My eyes can’t turn away
but just remain there hypnotized_
to a world that spins around me
with designs of inspiration.
Crossing over graveyards
the bridge of life is burning_
leaving behind the fruits of memory
that has reached its expiration.
Still as a lifeless corpse
my image falters.
The likeness of a past
I reminisce.
A flash before my eyes,
I face the alter.
The life, before I died,
I never lived.
No friends to leave behind
to feel my sorrow.
No time to heal the wounds
of yesterday.
No promise there will be
a new tomorrow,
to change the way I feel
inside today.
The Peace who stilled the oceans
for a moment_
left His footprints on the bridge
for us to seek.
With the words that spoke of truth
and pure atonement.
And the tears that fell for hearts
He could not reach.
Michael 11/20/2015
Michael Mtspoet's photo.
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