I just wanted to share a poem that means a lot to me. Its so good I wish I'd wrote it myself.
(I found this at Storybin. Click the link below to visit.)

The Bridge Builder
An old man, going a lone highway,
Came, at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fears for him;
But he turned, when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.

"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim, near,
"You are wasting strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again must pass this way;
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide-
Why build you a bridge at the eventide?"

The builder lifted his old gray head:
"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,
"There followeth after me today,
A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught to me,
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him."
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Added: February 26, 2000
Author: Will Allen Dromgoole
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CABIN FEVER

This is a photo of my dad & me. It was taken in 1976 and I'm about 3 yrs old.

Dad, thanks for coming to see me last month. I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you off the plane or go out to dinner or anywhere but it was good having you around.

The highlight of his visit? He took me for a walk. Around the block. Yeah, doesn't sound like much right? But it was for me. So. Combed my hair, pulled on my sneakers, and off I tottered thru the front gate.

I was in the outside world for the first time in over a year. It felt good. Taking in the scenery and fresh country air, past 3 houses, round the corner, past 2 more houses... I had to rest. I sat on the curb, trying to catch my breath. I was so excited, talking wildly about whatever popped into my head. My dad was looking at me like he thought I was mad. I didn't care. I was happy. When I able to, we strolled on. My eyes were scanning the ground for any li'l treasures (like old coins, rocks, jewellery etc. I've always been a bit of a bower-bird)... I loved looking at everything we passed - an old tumbledown wooden shed, the house so hidden behind trees and vines I almost forgot it was there, the shop with the peeling paint and lopsided verandah, the uneven concrete, a toddler waving from his mum's porch, me waving back... all the little everyday things that I missed so much. Past another 5 houses, then stopping for another breather. Secretly I was wondering if I really could walk the whole way... while hoping wildly that I would. A few more steps, have to sit down again. My legs were shaking like jelly. And as I sat on the curb gasping and sputtering, something ocurred to me. It didn't matter if I couldn't make it- what mattered was the trying. I burst out laughing. I was out of the house, God was with me, and I was ok. And it was in the trying I gained back something that I didn't even know I was longing for- my self respect. And I didn't find any treasures on that walk. Or did I?

PS I did walk right round the block. Next time I might not make it, but I know I'll have the integrity to try. And it might even be fun.