Breathing. Deeply. In.

Cytherean Dreams

It’s treacherous, this
bridge of air
and ropes swinging
perilously over fog
unseen depths below
with rocks? cliffs?
sharp jagged edges?
Or maybe lush trees
like the one that
beckons in the distance
welcoming visitors with
stately grace
into the new world beyond?
If I don’t cross
the bridge, I’ll
never know. So
time to trust,
and take
one nerve-wracking step
feet clinging
to rickety wood planks
breathing deeply
the healing mists.

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