where, words, will you take me?
to the future?
to the past?
will you tumble from me foolishly?
will you draw on hearts a path?

what, words, must you make of me
as you bid to leave my skin?
as I examine you, words, exiting
self evident, self editing.

well, what, words, will you bring?
an end to hate?
an end to peace?
the gentle dove, destroying beast
when once, to air
to ear

here, words, in my depthless well
pail cast to the unheard
I'll draw from glinting darkness
urgent languid words.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.