One of my favorite poems, The Bridge Builder, has stuck with me since I read it to my oldest many, many years ago. I read it then as the character of the young traveler seeking a mentor, and now, as the main character. I am touched by the generosity of spirit of the old man, and hope to find some way to emulate it.
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And, increasingly, I am also grateful for the pilgrims that walk the lone highway. I feel the pain in their feet as my own, the creak of their backs, the pain in their hands. It provides a hint at a future when I will understand even better the sacrifice they have made.
The Bridge Builder
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