Bridge

I am just a bridge.  I am not a shining monument of human technology crossing miles of ocean or connecting great cities.  I am small, wooden, and rather inconspicuous connecting one small path to another.  I might be difficult to find for unfamiliar travelers.  There are no signs pointing the way.  I can be circumvented although doing so might prolong the journey or make it more difficult.  I am of no specific importance to anyone.

I am just a bridge.  I connect to pieces of the path together.  I am neither here nor there.  I cannot move forward, yet neither can I go back.  I am umoving, yet impermanent. I facilitate the journey for fellow travelers, yet have never seen the destination. 

I am just a bridge.  When my purpose here is done... when the soul I am purposed for finally crosses my rotting planks, I will fall into the flowing stream of consciousness.  This stream to which I have been so close for so long, yet unable to touch, sparkling with light.  I have been looking into this stream of consciousness my entire life.  Unable to let go of the path behind me or before me and unable to move in either direction.

I am just an old wooden bridge.  I blend into my surroundings.  I reach towards the past and the future, but stay anchored in the present. I look forward to the day that I can no longer hold on; to the day when I no longer have to.  When I can re enter the unbroken flow of thought and awareness and join the Source of my existence.

Until then, I am content and grateful to be just a bridge.  One of countless facilitators for even more countless soul journeyers. To have a purpose... a specific purpose... to be a bridge.