The Bridge

With heavy thuds I matched up the steel frameworks of the bridge. At each step I felt elevated and elated. My stomping feet sounded like a gong drumming to a stop at the summit of the interchange.

I felt light and dizzy in the head. The skies seem to have its own perfume scenting the dry air with whispering calm. If only i was tall, I could easily catch the billows of the clouds. On the bridge, I walked while holding hands with my muse.

She is above everything petty and cheap, the riches of her heart makes her more than a mere effect. With me she has no defect. Even when I stare at the mirrow, she is all i reflect. We walked closer with our fingers entwined. It was terrific, it could pause traffic. In this busy road of life, she is my traffic light.

My Northern star, always loyal, guiding me through the dark sails of life. She is my landing site, she is my anchor in the shores of reality. She is of top quality. She is not common. She is equity.

After settling on the rails of the bridge, I looked down. I saw the speeding cars and lorries, each driver with their own worries and sorries.The road was littered with stars, stars from headlights and stars on tars. Shooting stars. Life speeding to an inventuality, we all die someday.

I saw flashes of white and black, a blend of black and red. Greens and ripe oranges. The street lights added to the ambiance. Colours of different tints and shades rolled through ;a proper galaxy, scented by my imaginations and sprinkled with wonders by my Priestess.
Each color was genariously represented.

She is like a hoisted flag, Proudly floating up high. I am her highness.

Some drivers were probably worrying about getting home late while some had no home. Some are rushing to their kids with goodies from the day’s gifts and some were going home empty handed with only a frown to show for, after a wrinkled day’s endeavor.

Some fuel meters were probably clocking strange,each wondering what went wrong and why the tanks was almost empty everyday. Some drivers are speeding to a broken home, choked of air, a suffocating marriage with numerous uninspiring cages, on a brink of divorce and discord.

Some drivers are running through the calendars of the night to see if they could get more money to date the dawn. Some drivers are wives that went for a non-existent meetings and are now returning late with bags of excuses. Some have hurriedly washed off the stench of their betray, yet they still smell their deceit. Some are rushing home to make meal for a husband that kept his stomach elsewhere.

Well, I pray they all get home safe and I hope the food won’t give them swollen bellies to stomach.

Sometimes this world is tainted by circumstances that makes us somewhat far from our goals. It’s at this point we should reflect through our mistakes and retakes. As I stared at my muse, it felt like our heart was digging for a deeper understanding.

We all search for breathless moments, something to hold on to and climb the steps of our own bridges just to avoid the rush of the buzzing traffic. We all want to avoid the traffics and its tragics but we still care for a ride on the speedy lane. Sometimes, most times, we crave for what we don’t have, we starve for it and when it comes around we wish we could wait for something much more better for ourselves.

In a traffic filled with different speed and need. In a traffic tunneling to different directions and misdirections. All we truly need is our own bridges, to avoid the hectic business of the road. My bridge is with you my muse, my escape from the horror shows of life.


For Era.


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