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)