This book holds the items for the contest I enter in 2019, 2020, and beyond. |
The Bridge The bridge standing between me and tomorrow, waits for my finitude of uncertainty to dissolve like snow in spring's first rain. I inhale the smoke from yesterday's bridge knowing that there is no turning back, still I hesitate-- not out of fear, but something more primal. I adjure myself to move forward, to ignore the desire to know-- of a certainty-- what the future holds. Neither lessons nor growth come from foreknowledge, rather they are the results of walking in faith towards the inevitable conclusion of life's journey. Poet's Mote: ▶︎ |