There has to be a bridge that shows us where Reality and fantasy are linked I crossed it once, and maybe I’m still there Where everything and nothing may be synced
We cross it daily, knowing what we trod And yet, our thoughts are ignorant at best The bridge is not a metaphor for god Nor is it somewhere one should stop to rest
Is this the bridge I built when I was lost When nothing was familiar I perceived Are bridges only real when they are crossed Is fantasy a cause to be believed
Reality and fantasy reveal The places that such bridges can’t conceal.
This entry was posted on Saturday, September 14th, 2024 at 10:57 pm and is filed under Images, Sonnets. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
