The Bridge

A canyon much grander than any imagined
A gorge without limit; a far-flung expanse
Separates Holy from mankind, the fallen ones
Bipeds can't bridge it, the edge halts advance

Our skulls hold no answers but hints are abounding
A crossing exists, undetected by probing
A dream, some have said, or a wishing by foolish ones
Only a few see the mystery disrobing

Opposable-thumbed ones are bent on the conquest
To plumb the crack's depth and its width quantify
Theories are theorized, hypotheses offered
Trailblazers march on with their quest to defy

This chasm that mocks them with stoic delight
Observing each failing with glassy-eyed stare
But try as they will all the creatures of carbon
Still find themselves bowed at the foot of despair

Gray matter and sinew and neurons and sweat
No match for the rift between Spirit and flesh
But a Carpenter crafted a firm, narrow walkway
A wood wright unique, of a mystical mesh

He took many pains for this avenue's crafting
Each nail driven firmly, each plank richly stained
He crafted it minus the help of all others
At project's completion his coffers were drained

Now ages have passed since the bridge was completed
Though few find its entrance and try out its boards
Many are they who deny its existence
Though 'twas built for the mislead, incredulous hordes

Still others believe it to be but another
Of thousands of bridges that span the divide
But that ages-old link remains stalwart and lonesome
Though the fables and myths ebb and flow like the tide

And one day the last foot will cross its far threshold
As the naysayers doubt and the myth lovers pine
And the Builder will welcome the final sojourner
All the branches securely attached to the Vine