5am on the Brooklyn bridge.
If you ever find yourself standing on the Brooklyn Bridge as the day wakes up. Take notice for it is the changing of the guard, a moment left unguarded. A brief instant where the nightcrawlers have found shelter and the day walkers are still silent. It is the palace of the neutral mystic, the middle way between the polarity of opposition. A place where time steps aside for a smoke break in the dawn mourns the loss of the night while she waits to become day.
That is where I found myself the first time I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. Not knowing that this was more than just a bridge, it was a gateway between worlds. Each step brought me closer to Manhattan and closer to the gravity of this gateway. The walkway was nearly empty, except for the stray cyclist, yet it was teeming with life. You could feel the imprint of countless others that have come before as they passed through the gateway to the American dream. As I reached the midpoint I paused to take it in, there I wept. Knowing this was more than a simple bridge, it was a sentient being that has lovingly held the dreams, fears, hopes, and wishes of all who have crossed. Impartial and empathetic, quietly she waits to support us, serving one purpose, which is serving others. A testament to humanity’s higher self, she is beautiful and tireless.
Inspired and awestruck I stepped forward breathing in the beauty, humbled by her sprawling example of empathy. Every step closer to Manhattan brought about a humbling pride knowing this bridge was a physical metaphor of hope. A place where the spirit of America preserves and welcomes the world with open arms. Once I set foot on the island of Manhattan I understood this is a place of profound and limitless potential. Where the air is light with possibility in the future begins every day at 5 AM.
New York I love you.