The flames from our bridge have long died out, leaving behind charred pieces of wood sitting in their own ash.
Useless. Worthless. Good for nothing. What need have I of a few burnt pieces of wood and rope? None. Then why did I gather these pieces and lock them away for safekeeping? Sentiment, I suppose. A reminder not of the destruction that took place, but rather of the beauty and the strength that preceded it; the life it once represented. They stood for something, so strong and proud as they connected two worlds and brought them together. Two hearts, which otherwise had no access to each other, were free to cross over to either side (for a bridge works both ways) and wrap themselves in the company of the other.
Was it not beautiful?
I thought it was, and I would have given anything to see it rebuilt in all its glory. I would have loved to see it reinforced and strengthened so it could carry more weight and withstand the greatest of heat so no fire could burn it down again. But that was another time… another life not so far removed from the present. You didn’t want it rebuilt. You were content with leaving it at the bottom of the chasm when I tried to lay out the blueprints for a rebuilding project. I thought you’d be excited at the prospect of this new challenge; at my change of heart and priorities. I thought you’d be just as eager to bridge the gap between our worlds again as I had become.
But naturally, it didn’t work out that way. This isn’t a project you wanted to busy yourself with; a world you had any desire to reconnect to. You couldn’t even stand the sight of these charred remains and opted to bury them all in that same bottomless chasm. I took the time and effort to recover these pieces because of what they meant to me. I know I’ll never get the chance to see this amazing bridge resurrected in the ways I had planned, but they remind me of a time where even the broadest and the deepest chasm could be crossed over, no matter how hard I had believed it couldn’t. You once found beauty where I thought it never existed; you built a bridge I had no confidence could be constructed, at least one leading to me. THAT’S why these pieces mean so much to me.
You may call me immature or insecure for holding on to these remnants for so long, but this is not the case. I held on because I saw beauty worth pursuing. I saw strength within the weakness, beneath these blackened, decayed slabs of wood. I am drawn to beauty, to love, to purity, and growth. Can I help it if I reach out to something I think is beautiful and worth fighting for? Yet when there is no bridge to cross, I have no means with which to fight, despite the fact that the will to fight remains. But how can I fight for a territory I have no access to? How can I defend that which is out of my reach? No bow has the strength to cross this expanse, nor any artillery the range.
But don’t mistake my holding on as an act of sitting at the mouth of the chasm, dangling my feet over the edge and doing nothing but hope for the unlikely. I’ve been moving on with my own life, putting my own pieces back together that needed to be reassembled. It’s true, I wish at times that you were still here and our bridge were intact so that our worlds may be reunited. I give a great deal of thought to the beauty I’ve but glimpsed and the lessons I have learned. There is love and beauty worth pursuing in this world, and it can indeed cross any chasm leading to my own world and be reciprocated.
And I think that’s one of the most important lessons of all.