Bridge on a River

She stood on the bridge,absolutely still, gazing at the water below. The old stone-bridge, with its moss grown edges must be atleast a hundred years old and the river flowing below even older. She was the bridge: watching over the river that was life which flowed through her and beyond her, so close yet so far. She wished to be the river - to flow into the sea eventually. Meanwhile, to embark on a journey of discovery, of coves and ravines, known and unknown ways, to mark her own path where there was none, to use every bit of life in her before the sea engulfed her.

Would the river ever hear the pleas of her heart, would she with her incessant flowing, one day, erode the bridge to collapse and merge with the river, to become one with life and march towards their destiny....