At Home in the Universe

I walk across a bridge.  Is it wide?  Is it narrow?  How many people shall join me on this bridge?  Is it reserved for humans alone?  Humans in this era?  

Catch all into the web which lies underneath all and everything.  The web which halls all into the Center, which makes us one, yet which does not nullify or diminish our identities.  We accelerate towards the center at a speed which we could not contrive, and yet the space is infinite.  We are moving yet ever held.  In arms of love yet partaking with those around us.  Mystics, farmers, accountants, athletes, and the world which holds us up.  But then take the picture out farther.  Planets, galaxies, space and time, all born from the Source, all returning to that from which it was made.  

Could the bridge be wide?  Could it span past death?  Could everyone and everything eventually walk it?  Could a gracious infinity await existence?  

Call my heart in your hands.  Call my pain into your grace.  Call my struggles into your living mercy.  Call my tears into your heart.  Mend my brokenness. Call me home.