One extreme to the next,
Our hands are clasped
In a web of a dreamer’s mess.
We grasp each other,
Pull tight and hold close,
While the woven maze of threads,
Lock restraints from our fall.
Far ahead, water collapses
Crashing, slashing, on polished rocks,
Thunder crashes in the distance,
The lightening flashes,
Mirrored in the windows of your soul.
Wet droplets fall from the sky,
One by one, landing upon us.
Sprinkling
Melting.
Pouring.
It falls.
 
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