then let me be a bridge

отсюда

Sometimes this bridge makes me a bit jealous - if one had the strength to stand through the seasons and years as this bridge does, imagine what one could experience? I always glance at it, four or five times at the least, as I drive past on Route 30, and I always, always feel a slight thrill when driving across it to and from St. Johns.

It stands there for every moment of every sunset. Every magic hour. Each long and chilly winter night. Through the foggy, ever-changing air of each spring and the warm, hazy veil of each summer. And, as in this image, it stands unyielding through the moody, blanketing grey storms that are so common here. I envy the bridge most of all for that - for its place under the clouds, constantly exposed to the push and pull of the wind and the wet, cool kiss of each raindrop.

If I were to come back into this world made of stone and steel, then let me be a bridge, my limbs in eternal flight as they span from one side to the next, my face raised in awe to the sky.