Benevolent Shrine

A steam of consciousness

Bells chime over the wickery bridge,

an eerily silent voice, a shriek, and a chill.

Three minutes and eighteen seconds of self discovery, 

and a pondering thought, with nothing left to fill.

I'll cross this bridge just as it begins to shake,

a slow revival and a do not hesitate.



Each step burns hotter than the last,

the bridge veers off,

collapsed and dilapidated or a benevolent shrine,

the choice made easy, quickened with time.

Tendrils of violins, choirs across winds,

a steady heartbeat and a slow yearn.

A moth engulfed in sunfyre, in vain it burns.


Bells chime at the end of the wickery bridge,

a resounding jovial voice, a whisper, and warmth.

Three minutes and eighteen seconds of self discovery, 

and a considerate thought, with everything to give.

I crossed that bridge just as it began to shake,

steadfast a slow revival and a do not hesitate.