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For the bridges of life...
Life is as fragile as the morning dew upon
an iris petal, as strong as the stem beneath
the bearded iris, as plentiful as the proliferation
of leaves from its roots, and when compared
to the millennium, as short of a time as the
iris lives. Life is fluid and ever changing,
sustained upon a fragile thin rope bridge
- at best - strung from one cliff edge to
another over an empty and endless cavern.
We think - no, we tell to ourselves a lie
- that life is as solid as the rocks from
which life's bridges hang. Yet life is near
and immediate to death. For life as we know
it can evaporate in the stroke of a heartbeat,
or the lack thereof. And when it is gone,
we are left with fragments of a life we loved
or hated, it matters not. It was the life
we knew. The life we thought was ours. The
life we foolishly believed we controlled.
Yet, did we?
Do we really control anything at all? By
some miracle, in a moment of time fashioned
by the master weavers of the heavens and the
earths, from the vast universe, we are gifted
years, days, or mere minutes into our own
domain to do with as we please. But do we
forge it into anything of significance? Can
we ever hope to influence even the quietest
moment in the deepest corner of heaven?
And do we need to?
Now, years later, from a point in time that
seems as though it was as near as a mere few
months ago, one person is grasping the bridge,
and the other person conveniently whispering
within self professed lies of hopeful truths
that were lost to the wind. And each believes
the rock is solid. But it is not. It is not
for me, nor is it for you. Moreover, it is
not for anyone.
A train derails from the tracks and leaves
behind its spillage for miles on end, cargo
strewn to the wayside, loose, and broken.
Its golden paper tariff, the map of where
it has been and where it must go lays ripped
to shreds upon the ground. And puffs of steam
slowly evaporate into time until they completely
cease.
So, too, a life can derail from tracks that
it had laid so long ago when life's manifest
of intents and promises binding that life
to the world are forgotten or ripped to shreds,
and the truth is learned that we control as
we defy - neither gravity between wheels and
track nor the ticking of time - indeed nothing
in this menial human form.
In this tragedy, a train fell. A human fell.
A life fell, if only of rhetoric and fantasy,
and its breath evaporated into nothingness
at the hand of an unseen force.
What comes of such a tragedy? Surely, no
good comes of it. Air that once filled lungs
with energy now fills a gut with angst and
clings heavily like smoke to the skin which
neither cloth nor bristle can remove, which
no shower washes away. No force - seen or
unseen - can ever return that portion of your
soul enveloped in the folds of broken promises
and given away.
And what of other lives? Can one be so consumed
inside one's self to think that no other life
has been touched? Even the slightest moment
in a glance can discern another upon a bridge.
Over there, and not so far away, there lays
a heart in love now strewn over trusses like
the bits of your soul across the years. Beyond
it is yet another, and beyond that one yet
another. Were those hearts so insignificant
and meaningless that they too were easily
and quickly abandoned and left broken amongst
more lies? And to die?
Can one move from one plane of existence
to another without remorse? Or is the pain
of that remorse the very evil from which you
run, or easily discarded by vanity, or overcome
by love? Indeed, love may have been sought.
Indeed, love may have been found. But the
chances are likely that it was there all the
time in the last place ever considered - within
one's own heart.
Here, a chapter ends. Now, a life goes on.
And the truth of a promise remains unchanged.
Perhaps if the original manifest is pieced
together once more, the ropes will have enough
fiber to hold for a life time, the bridge
will stop swaying, and the cavern below will
loose its powerful willful fear.... And once
again, the train will have direction to carry
forth its duty - forging life upon solid tracks
- maintaining a course of strength and honor.....
If for one moment peace and serenity consume
your heart, or moreso, if they consume your
soul, if for one moment you recommit to the
promises that your heart forgot and your soul
remembers well, you may once again believe
in an endless love and feel the pleasure of
two souls becoming one, or you may not. Either
way, one truth shall prevail - We are not
masters of the heavens any more than we are
masters of the hells, we are merely masters
of our choices, and our choices are our rails.
Written for my best friend's daughter.
Copyright www.sunshynkid.com, 2007. All rights
reserved.
See Also:
Do
You Ever Wonder?
Those things done in life... right... wrong...
or otherwise
About Alzheimer's
In 5 years, an estimated 15 million people
will be diagnosed with Alzheimer's. That's
half of today's 65 year old and older
population.
Theodore
"Ted" Golisek
June 16, 1916 - March 30, 2005
Theodore Golisek Memorial Fund
Defining
Life With Alzheimer's
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