The Bridge Builder

An old man, going a lone highway, Came at the evening cold and gray, To a chasm, vast and deep and wide, Through which was flowing a sullen tide. The old man crossed in the twilight dim, That sullen stream had no fears for him; But he turned, when he reached the other side, And built a bridge to span the tide. “Old man”, said a fellow pilgrim near, “You are wasting your time building here. Your journey will end with the ending day; You never again must pass this way. You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide, Why do you build a bridge at eventide?” The builder lifted his grey old head. “Good friend, in the path I have come”, he said, “There follows after me today, A youth whose feet must pass this way. This chasm that has been naught to me, To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be. He, too, must cross in the twilight dim; Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.” - Poem By Will Allen Dromgoole With loads of thanks to Bud Bilanich