camp

Dear you,

I walked across a bridge once

Old and decaying.

It swayed beneath my shoes

To and fro

To and fro

It was not my final destination, no

bridges never are the final destination.

Rather a means to a place.

People never stop to look at a bridge

too concerned with going

To and fro

To and fro 

I would ask you to stop.

If only for a moment.

Look at your life,

look at a bridge and wonder,

if only for a moment,

what exactly it means to be a moment.

A pure indescribably complex moment.

I confess to you, yes you, that I don't

know yet where the to and fro of life is taking me.

Nor do I think any of us do.

All I do know, is that you, sweet, wonder-filled you

with your to and fro

will always be just out of reach of stopping.

But I beg of you,

try