There is this; that when I lay there
Unable to move more than my limbs,
Or my eyes, my thoughts, my dreams,
I yearned to cross the bridge between feeling and thinking.
  
There’s this; when I moved the pictures in my mind,
My thoughts began to follow.
I saw the many walls between thee and me.
I wanted to climb over, crawl round, see through.
  
I felt hemmed in, bound by love and affection,
Yearning to move hither and yon,
Longing to be somewhere else,
Yearning for a sense of direction.
  
And there’s this; when I began to crawl,
I wanted to fly.
I yearned to reach wide enough
to touch the edges of the sky.

When I began to walk, I longed to ride.
From here to there - and back again
To here, there, anywhere. Anywhere!
When I was riding, I wanted to soar.
Wanted my dreams to follow as far and as high as my eyes could see
And my heart could feel.
  
And when I could see, I wanted to run.
I wanted to feel the wind on my face
And the raging fire of. . . what?
I didn’t know.
I don’t know!
I only know I yearned to cross the bridge between longing and knowing.
  
And there’s this; when I thought I knew, I wanted to forget.
When I thought I’d forgotten, I yearned for recall.
When I tasted freedom I looked for walls.
When I found walls I reached for doors.
When I found doors, I often wanted to close them.
  
And still I dream, and when I lie here
Unwilling to move more than my limbs,
Not ready for giving and too tired for taking.
I yearn to burn the bridges between dreaming and waking.