In each of us
There is a chasm,
A yawning gap separating me from me.
You and I must build the bridge.
This bridge cannot be formed from brick or stone or twisted metal cable.
This bridge will require something far finer,
Finer than the most silken thread.
Perhaps the tears seeping from our souls will help form
The bridge crossing the chasm between me and me . . .
When we build it,
It will be the narrowest of formations,
So narrow that, once we reach mid-span, we will be unable to turn and go back to where we began.
So narrow that we can’t imagine how we will navigate the passage over unfathomable depths,
Even if we are so, so careful.
If we are lucky,
Some day we will come to understand
that this bridge will never be completed.
It will stretch across the yawning gap
And then fade from View.
And if we are very blessed indeed
Some day we will come to understand that
There never will be a bridge,
And there never was a chasm,
Only the infinite kindness of sacred space
Holding us in its warm embrace.
David Hanig 
Beautiful. Thank you, what an amazing gift you have shared.
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Thanks, Ramona. So happy you took a look at my work. D
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An elegy to wisdom and the workings of time.
When I was 19 years old, I went with my father to try Transcendental Meditation. The trainer put me in a meditative state… it was phenomenal. Then he rapidly broke that state, “woke” me up and said, “now you know how to do it.”
I never again reached that meditative state. I tried for a few months, but I couldn’t/didn’t get there. And even though my father kept at it till he died a few years later, I stopped.
I said to myself at the time… “I don’t need this. When I get old/older the time will be ripe for meditation.”
But yes… I never again reached that singular moment that I had at age 19.
A bridge. A chasm. And an infinite kindness still awaits.
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