Attempting a Small Soliloquy

I think that's confession enough. Quatrains 19,20,21,22 of Jules Chauvin, Ferryman in Exile:

At first Jack’s words traversed impassive air
like Calvin’s ferrying the Merrimack—
the other shore stays distant, unfamiliar,
until that heartbeat when you understand

the far-flung shore is now your terra firma.
“A bridge?” he asked himself, forgetting Jack
to be the source of all particulars.
“And why a bridge? The ferry isn’t forfeit

enough? My services aren’t sacrifice
enough for sins? The river isn’t blood
one needs to wash his body in each day
but just impediment or waterway

to voyage above, some anonymous
abyss between inconsequential worlds
one travels over, disregarded and
forgotten, just another groundless void?”

Update: in S1-L4, changed "the" to "that" and "that" to "when"