I traveled through a wooded land
To a high suspension bridge that
Was only wide enough for one to
Pass.  the canyon at great depth
Above the river far below.  It was
almost freezingly cold.  I could
See a great range of misty peaks
Before me.  Then my feet seemed
No longer to completely touch the
Wood but as if being placed on a
Cushion of air compressed not
Completely down.  Then my
Aged companion said: It is the
Rising air that protect the child
Still in the womb.  Then I knew
The Truth, I should not take  the
Crown for it belonged to one not
Yet born but it was art to know.
And was for peace not for grief.