The Bridge

Slivers of my soul

shattered, unbound

scattered on the ground.

Reflecting refraction,

sun’s rays

melding, welding, healing,

slivers into vessels,

vessels into heart,

heart into soul.

Now made whole again

with heart and soul,

I become

a new thing.

Not a no thing

but a some thing.

Parts less than whole,

whole still incomplete,

but somehow not deplete.

So I rise

from the death bed

of

free will.

By what strength:

obedience, recalcitrance?

Neither mine to grasp.

Free will itself?

Perhaps, mine to …

surrender.

To my spirit, the Spirit

for the new thing me,

the ful-fillament

to set me free.

Free from

self, stuff,

baggage and riches.

All left behind

suspended in time.

Awakening, propelling me

to where I must be.

Destiny …

or simply destined

to go.

To the next place

with a new face;

more than what was shattered,

nevermore shrunk and tattered.

Forevermore

filled with gratitude

for all that I know not,

for the mystery

I cannot see,

unbound,

outside of me.