The bridge runs through me
and a million faces pass
They all spread wide
over seas, and fields of grass.
Time ticks on,
and day turns to night.
Summer turns to fall, and further still
within its arboreal plight.
I remain motionless,
but my essence goes on.
I am merely just an echo
Hoping others will find the dawn.
When the hourglass runs out,
and the bird gives its last call,
I’ll remember every last one,
because I said I’d give it my all.
None will recollect me,
or this bridge that keeps the dark away.
Yet the more I think about it, that’s alright -
because it’s better that way.
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