Which bridge to cross and which to burn,
a decision only life can teach us.
I only liked the smell of smoke
if it was old wood or dried leaves.
If the bridge is over troubled waters,
I’d need to know when to row, wade or swim.
Also, if it’s a babbling brook or a roaring falls,
one can entrance you, while the other can kill.
Illusion is a pleasure we hold dear.
But is disregarded once it’s out lived its usefulness.
Which means it has not given us pleasure, or become reality.
By crossing the bridge, we leave the illusions behind.
I must risk, or nothing is worthwhile to have,
for the empty risk has no meaning.
Yet, just because things are different,
it doesn’t mean we have really changed
The talent is knowing how to play the cards fate deals.
Choices may be from a conscience or just cold feet,
in that we can covet or compete for what we want.
A burned bridge can be rebuilt, but will not be the same.
In the cold dread of night, even an atheist
hopes there is a higher power to help guide them
through the new territories of life.
So, savor the illusion, but live for the change
There’s so much more to it,
than just women’s intuition.
Alice Parker © 2008