Out along old route 7, just shy of a lost Cowboy Town, there rests a broke down bridge. The relentless torrents of the mighty River have lifted the skirt of this decrepit Queen. Her archaic stone piers giving way to the lengthy timber pilings underneath--the Queen's illustrious legs forever exposed. Once upon a time, caravans of adventuresome gold-diggers trekked across her trusses. Now, belly burned to ash, the trusses are witness to cruelty unknown and pleasures untold. The delight felt as weightless entities flutter towards an impending doom, only to arise from the baptizing waters a momentary breath before death. Her floor beams have lain eyes on tragedy and obscenity alike--so few and far between, but never unseen. Never to be un-seen.The screams of terror and ungodly delight fill her ears as unwanted guests force themselves upon her as savage beasts. Five to one, and one to five, this was when her spirit died. The burden she carries leaves its' mark upon her forgotten beauty. The scrawl of some ones' memories past etched into her sides. She has embodied the pain and blues of every patron lost to her immeasurable height. They, who once lost hope to carry their own burden, now rest it upon the Queen. Although, not all of the calamities are so predetermined. The unexpected misfortune is bound to strike time to time. As fated teens amble their way farther and farther up her girders and beams, one must fall--never to be put back together again. Stray from her. She will hurt you. Leave you cut, bruised, and sore. She will evoke you, torment the mind, and snare you in with her siren's wail. Rusty and lustful you will not escape her call. Higher and higher, she will take you. Above the treetops, to see the Sun of suns. The way up is no longer the way down. Falling, you will see, is the final answer. To a dream once forgotten. Except, there will be no sudden jerk to pry you from the fabled sandman's grip. This is no dream. Her high beams and girders of steel, foundation of stone and timber, are all but pretended or invented in the depths of your mind. You are falling. You will not awake, because you are not asleep. Keep falling, for if you stop, you are dead. However, the torture will end. The Queen must sleep, mustn't she? Her cold steel embrace replaced and replenished with rushing winds. Rushing winds replaced with the icy, gripping fingers of the river below.
You emerge. As if reborn. She has cleansed and purged your very soul. With restored strength and agile wit, understanding washes over you as does the river.
"What say you poor man? Have another go?" she beckons!
"Strip me for all I am worth, I will take you for what you are!" I declare.
"Lo and behold, a wiry lad amped on his own premature angst. Get up, prove your worth to me, boy!"
So, that is what I say to thee, prove your worth to me!
Climb higher and higher, no end in sight. Take in the view from the top, for it could be the final opportunity to do so. Then, fly aloft with the birds, despite your lack of feathery wings; try to overcome that boisterous and cumbersome fiend--Gravity--friend turned foe from ages ago.
Prove your worth, not only to me, but to your own self.
Say it with me now,
"CANNONBALL!"
You emerge. As if reborn. She has cleansed and purged your very soul. With restored strength and agile wit, understanding washes over you as does the river.
"What say you poor man? Have another go?" she beckons!
"Strip me for all I am worth, I will take you for what you are!" I declare.
"Lo and behold, a wiry lad amped on his own premature angst. Get up, prove your worth to me, boy!"
So, that is what I say to thee, prove your worth to me!
Climb higher and higher, no end in sight. Take in the view from the top, for it could be the final opportunity to do so. Then, fly aloft with the birds, despite your lack of feathery wings; try to overcome that boisterous and cumbersome fiend--Gravity--friend turned foe from ages ago.
Prove your worth, not only to me, but to your own self.
Say it with me now,
"CANNONBALL!"
