There is a bridge
at the end of the world
and none who cross
return.
Tales are told
of the other side,
but none who tell them
know for sure.
There is a part
of each of us
that stays after we’re gone,
a piece of dust,
the universe
allows to linger on.
If space between
the energy
is made of dark
and the unknown,
the how much of us
is made
of undiscovered parts?
Not sure we’ll ever know.
At least not here,
in this world,
that seems to be
more mystery
than certainty
to me.
When I finally see the bridge
waiting out there;
will I cross it,
or collapse it,
like so many I’ve done here?
I’m roving through legitimate mistakes,
it takes so long to break
the bars and then escape
from this arbitrary,
imaginary, divine singularity.
Redefined,
it unwinds,
inspiring much hilarity.
Our small minds
try so hard
to wrap themselves
in infinity,
but we’re still
only multi-celled,
mutated anomalies;
at least that’s what we’re teaching this century
I’ve got a wonderful idea,
something’s finally coming clear;
we’ll find this bridge
to a certain somewhere
and we’ll bring our living there.
It’s a strategic position,
once we take it,
then it’s ours.
We’ll position our armies
on the threshold of such power.
We’ll seize the link to somewhere
we’re all going anyway,
’cause what’s the fun of mystery
without blowing it away?
The cause it lost to reason,
we’ve abandoned anyway.
When we’re gone
the universe will still be the same.
That’s what truly scares us,
why we’re so afraid.
You really are the difference you make.
Every step along the bridge is a leap of faith.
HG -2016
