In the blue hush of glass and gold,
a sun and moon hold the breath of time,
their infinity traced in light,
a loop without beginning, without end.
Beneath their gaze,
arches open to water’s still heart
where the egret waits—
a sentinel of both flight and stillness.
The lotus blooms at the edge of the pool,
its golden core unclosing,
whispering, Here is the vow,
rooted in depth, radiant in day.
All crossings are already written
in the geometry of the sky and stone.
The bridge does not call—
it stands.
And when you step upon it,
you find the crossing was within you
all along.