Bridge to Somewhere Else

I know—
everything I see
carries another meaning.

Light slips softly
through a crack in the wall,
silvered by moonlight.

A distant gaze,
a few blocks away,
partly hidden
by branches—
half a thought,
half a memory.

A broken tree
at the creek’s curved edge,
glowing,
waltzing with noon—
like a bridge
crossing over.

All of them:
points of connection,
threads that bind
one dream to another,
each weaving
its own
shape of the real.

And I—
only one of them,
and all of them at once—
held together
somewhere
just beyond
my reach.