I thought I would share with any readers of my blog the Prologue to my upcoming book, The Bridge Builders, book one of a trilogy of books…
Sunrise on Roanoke Island
The Bridge Builder
An Old man, going a long highway,
Came, at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vat, 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 the 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.”
I come from a family of bridge builders who spent their lives trying to create a better world in which to live, work, and play — not only for themselves, but also for those around them. Men and women, black and white, lawyers, ministers, professors, artists, farmers, politicians, and school teachers – scores of folks from all walks of lives were touched by these stalwart bridge-builders, who saw education as a life-long pursuit and shared their knowledge with those around them. Their classrooms were not only books of all sorts on all variety of subjects, but their own homes and gardens – from the rolling, stonewalled estate of a English duke to the simple cottages and flat, sandy soils of coastal North Carolina. Indeed, much of what they learned had some basis in the land – in planting and growing things from the soil.