What holds you
like chains, stuck for years?
Braking on the edge,
driving with a limit
to your miles.
Walk over fire,
like I do.
Burn with the bridge
we will build,
while quiet pleasure
becomes loud.
Float over
what you recognize,
while moments
become memoirs,
evidence or testimony
to this tale.
Walk on wires,
like I have.
These conductive circuits
have been pulsing
for far longer
than we’ve been breathing.
Burn your bridge here,
lose your tears
that we might pass over
a river running
in both directions.
We go one way
to conquer all the days
we’ll ignite to recall
what we endeavored
to be designed.
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