Burning Bridge

I crossed a bridge, a winding bridge that had a brick wall in the middle. There was no way to cross, but I crossed. The bridge was made of burning hot iron coal and the side rails were made of razor blades. They all said it could not be done. No way, no how. How can you cross a bridge that is already burning?  Razor blazes for hand rails  and a wall that reaches the heavens and a icy cold river below. They said many times it couldn't be done. I crossed a bridge that could not be crossed. 

I crossed, and that is all that matters to me and most look at me in curiosity. I crossed the bridge that was not supposed to be crossed and I did it and that is my secret. I crossed that burning bridge with pride with cuts and bruises in my hands and on my sides. My feet burned to leather and I walked on to the wall and knocked it down, using my heart and not my crown. When that wall crumbled to the river below, a mirror was waiting on the other side. I saw a reflection of myself. The reflection was naked and true. Love radiated out through and through. I walked over that bridge that was supposed to be impossible to find the possible, to find my self, because I once lost myself on a burning bridge, bruised and tattered and none of it really mattered. The burning bridge lead me back to me and it can do the same for you. 

Cross those bridges and climb those walls and you to may find that just on the other side you will find it all.

Don't let them tell you a bridge can't be crossed or a wall can't be knocked down. When they no, you say yes, because crossing a burning bridge is just the test. 

-Nippon Gakkis

Reviews

[AF]

Beautifully written metaphor. :)