The Floating Dream Bridge . . .

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Somewhere in distant southern seas
Lies an island steeped in mysteries
As dark as the history of colonies
Despite the bright sun that bathes the place
Despite torrential rains
That wash all despair away
Down the ravines cut deep
Into the flank of the land
Land that flows like fire
Solidifying into rock
To be worn by the wind and rain
Far in the east of this distant place
Long ago a bridge was built
To cross a deep ravine
It served for many years
But finally a new road
And a new bridge were needed
To respond to the demands
Of modern times
The old bridge obsolete
Still standing but abandoned
In suspended animation
Keeping us all in suspense
Us few curious travellers
Who may venture here
To walk its length
And gaze over the edge
Into the abyss
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Far away to the east
In the dark heart of Europe
Lies another bridge
A figurative bridge
A haunted bridge
Or just haunting
Deep in the forests of Romania
A bridge that joins continents
A bridge that joins hearts
A bridge that searches souls
A bridge that flows
With the water going under
A bridge that sings in the twilight
A bridge that whispers at dawn
A bridge between clouds
A floating bridge
A floating bridge of dreams . . .
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One can look up from the old bridge, across the new bridge, to the heights of the volcano in the distance, a volcano that regularly sends streams of lava down the mountain and into the sea . . .
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And on this floating, suspended bridge of dreams, on the handrails, many messages of love have been carved into the metal, and over the years since, the messages have rusted . . . but has the love spoken of rusted too ? ? ? Is it possible for love to rust ? ? ?
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Love you forever . . .
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Ensemble . . . together . . .
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To the tune of : Who do you love ? ? ?
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Is this the Lolita that Nabokov wrote of ? ? ?
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Eternal love . . .
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Musical heroes memorialized . . .
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