To bridge across an empty space
They made the wood and metal one;
In years before the years before
The living business still got done —

The dying business, too. We know
And yet we don’t, although it’s clear
We’re only where we are for those
Whose lives and deeds had disappeared

A while before the ones we knew.
They built our stories, and our trails;
They dwell within our living ways,
In half-remembered words and tales

That try to bridge from them to us.
A bridge that’s now in disrepair;
But how do you reach what matters when
Your own foundation isn’t really there?