Bridges are built to stop all the gaps
and reach over raging waters.
But bridges can and will fall
when mothers turn against daughters.
Bridges are built when pride is lost
and sons strive to learn from their fathers.
Bridges can fall
when heads are underwater.
The storms rage on, and everything in life
becomes too hard to offer.
We feel alone the most
when we’re surrounded by people
And we only think of heaven
When we see a church’s steeple.
But the elderly grew
to admire that tall point, recognizing when they became feeble.
And one day, butterflies will dance
to the tune of the “Beetles.”
One day, we will rise and fly on our own,
soaring over the crumbling bridges like eagles.
One day,
my bridge will be known.
My bridge isn’t my pride,
and it isn’t my throne.
My bridge? My long but narrow confidence?
No way I could’ve built it on my own.
My bridge reaches over many seas
and overshadows the depths of the unknown.
But when stones of every bridge
start to tumble into the salty water,
we must find our blueprints
and renovate our inner structures.
Bridges are built to stop all the gaps
and reach over raging waters.
Bridges are built in many ways,
before our tempers can get any hotter.
Bridges are built to stop all the gaps
and reach over raging waters.
From life to a bridge,
we stand over our ridges
and our numerous sharp edges.
We try to bend over and clip those hedges,
to take the thorns away,
but the stems are still the same.
The key to reuniting our family,
to erasing our bondage
has been searched for, but never found,
because the people never knew
that all humanity has needed
is a bridge.
