The bridge.

 
Sister in distress,
I hear those words
Like clinking coins
You have to pay
For having a soul,
The need for a soul.
And I feel that
Yes, it is a beautiful
Thing to die
In a free fall,
An embracing fall,
An awakening under
The pregnant sun
That promises other lights,
Over a bridge,
For bridges are there
To connect,
A way of pushing in labor
Toward the truth.
 

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