The bridge I saw was then no more to see
Aspiring to reach the most declined of heights
Under the angle of childish metaphors abounding
But I watched the flames bellowing below
And I reckoned the bridge would now be flooded down
My hands reached what my eyes would never
Under the angle of a terror rising under me
Aspiring to race and raise beyond usual delights
The bridge of stone inside the halls resounding
My hands obeyed resting against the flow
And I recalled, upon my head rested a crown
But I watched my army marching after whomever
The bridge I saw was then no more to see
Aspiring to reach the most proclaimed of rights
Under the angle of deaf sonnets still redounding.
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