Wednesday, 16 September 2015

The Broken Bridge

 


Knowing you is similar
To walking on a bridge at night
That is known to carry passengers
To the other side,
Yet some of the planks that constitute it
Are broken and misplaced,
To reveal the surging river below
That finds its voice
(A voice that is seldom heard in its entirety)
By being constrained and hindered
By the time tested, uneven stones
(Is that not how we create
something of our own; something that is
rarely seen or acknowledged?)

The music of that voice is created
In three different, closely distant layers
The stream travelling from an altitude
Hits the rock, so sure of the power it possesses
Only to find a part of it
Lost, Displaced and left behind
Stopped by the rock.
That is the first sound
The sound of loss, defeat and loneliness.

The left behind part is then endorsed 
On to the same rock, by the forth coming wave
Thus producing the second sound,
Of not letting those belonging to the same tribe as you
To be left behind, helpless in the face of a foe
The sound of hope, inevitable after loss
is thus produced.

The waves again, both old and new
Breathing, travelling in the unity they created
Tide over the rock 
Thus producing the sound of triumph

The symphony of the waves is thus created. 

It's easy to let what's unfolding beneath 
Surging, violent and impatient,
To stop you from observing 
Of what is so still above
The mountains hiding behind the darkness
Created by the clouds embracing the moon.

The silhouette of those hiding mountains
is still; laughing perhaps
At the music of the perpetual violence being created below.

The broken bridge exists
Between the silhouette of the still mountains above
And the raving river below
And I stand on that bridge 
Wanting to know you; and You. 

you (You) exist at a point in distance
Where the cloudy dark sky
Unites the broken waves and the quiet mountains

But stopping me from going there,
From knowing something so majestic
Is something as naive 
as a bunch of broken planks
scattered all over the bridge

I can't life my head to explore that point
Without fearing to misplace my foot 
On one of those planks
and fall in darkness
So out of fear and lack of faith 
I decide to follow the instinctive way
To keep myself safe on that bridge
Rather than to submerge myself intimately 
With that point in the distance
The point where sky unites the broken waves and the quiet mountains
And not fearing if I trip
And become a part of the music below


I stand on that bridge
Getting your (Your) glimpses
But I am shunned from entirety 
Existing at that mystic point
For I lack the faith,
The faith to be intimate.