I burned down the bridges of the last evening
To van Gogh
|I burned down the bridges of the last evening, hurling them|
Down into the mysteries of the night, running hurriedly
To embrace the reddish light of the new dawn. Still the new dawn
Asked me the way backward into the last night. Confident, with no strings
Attached, I argued back, 'what is gone is gone'. The Dawn, cool, calm
And callous, replied I have the habit of keep coming back. Past is
My half-brother, and not my foe. The way backward is the way forward
And only those who build, and not burn, find a place under my sun.
Stuck, I have taken up the job of rebuilding the bridges
That connect my last night with my last evening.