Like an ant, for the team. All for one, everyone in turn, and one for all.
Horatio at the bridge, but I’m not Horatio, just the bridge? I am just for Horatio to stand on, or not, according to His needs, according to circumstances of the battle, if there is a battle. What if the battle’s over? Do I wait for someone to tell me to let go, to transform back?
A bridge to fight on? A bridge to meet someone? A bridge to nowhere, that could have been used but never was, never was where people wanted to go?
Just a bridge? With no drama? There’s always drama in romance. I have that much, if nothing on a more epic scale. She tells that story better than I do.
Science and religion, body and mind, old and new, then and now, now and what will be, thoughts and feelings, inside and outside, male and female, life and death. Sacred and profane – no, that was always a false dichotomy.
I am a bridge to another world, not for us, but for them to come through, the tigers, spirits, for their redemption, not ours. It is not my redemption. It is just what I know how to do. It is my wedding gift, to God, to the tigers, to me. Is that the darkest vision or the brightest one of all? It seems bright to me, but I suppose that’s relative. They come closer and closer. Soon they will tear through, and everyone will see.
You know, I’m only going to hang on to this other side for so long. I think it is up to me when to let go. Then I have things to do for myself. So boys, if you’re coming through me, you better get with it. Otherwise, they’ll be another, maybe. She has Her own plans. We all adapt to them.