The Bridge to Heaven...

I crossed a bridge made of woven dove feathers,
A bridge so fine as to allow only the passage of the lightest being.

As the years passed,
My heart grew too heavy to cross the bridge back home.
Thick with doubt and fear. Troubled, alone.
Trapped in a strange world with no way out.
I forgot the bridge made of white feathers.

Then one day I cried a lake full of tears
and breathed a breeze of sorrow
that washed me a dove’s feather upon the shore.

The breeze of sorrow turned still.
The lake of tears painted a bridge of heaven just for me.
It was with in the depths of my tears I saw the brightest light of all.

Three doves circled overhead and told me what must be done.

To be,
Like the touch of a feather.

Tell me!
What more is there to do?
Is there is more to life than to allow myself
to unfold into the gentle wings of a dove?
Tell me!
I have searched everywhere.
I have found nothing else!

In the depths of my tears I learned that
I am my bridge. And you are yours.
For our wings are formed from the woven feathers
of the bridge we crossed from heaven.

When I am me,
and we are we
Heaven, earth and we
are one.