The Magic Bridge

A man needs to complete his manhood… in an environment to which he is already accustomed.

An earth.

And in a form with which is intimately acquainted.

His body.

One life span, or many, may not be enough.

So once more he approaches the magic bridge but before he reaches that threshold he takes a moment to bathe and pray in a warm water pool. As he nears the bridge, now refreshed despite his years,  he begins to hear beautiful sounds emitting form the area of the bridge and see its floor shimmer. His bare feet touch the surface of the bridge as he now walks across its  arch. It is then he notices that the shimmering is caused by mosaics embedded into the bridge floor.  Each chip he sees is relevant to him capturing as it does a moment in his life, a meaningful moment; an experience which contributed to his growth. He laughs upon finding these puzzle pieces, each inscribed with a secret only he now can demystify. He understands why now each occasion transpired. 

And ahead of him now on the downward incline of this magical bridge are blank mosaic chips, nicely coloured but awaiting, as it were, to be inscribed by those memories his new form and life experience will contribute.  

He knows now continuity of meaning as he crosses the bridge and after he pierces the veil of fire he will sing, laugh, dance, and run again; even perhaps to love. Perhaps upon his next crossing his humanity will be full.  

Under a familiar sun. 

As he has been equipped all over again to know God. 

What a relief. Ring up another blessing.