drip, drip, drip

the endless thought

that rages into night

yet with one step

and all the insects silence

to return if i stop

waiting for choice

the pull between

the will and the way

when the middle road

your sudden destination shown

of hope alonging the middled road

though tree obscure

and rocks show their teeth

dreams fold into themselves

become your heart.

– Previously published  marc says, maysa says
(Renga Round with Marco Ashcroft)