the water is shallow. the miles exhale. hope's stringent breath. no room to drown.
the wood winces. under the weight of our path. sharp turns cut the map. its blood louder with each step.
we're only boxes. waiting to be ticked. measurements in a series of guesses.
the sounds linger. the textures consent. as the paradigm shifts. and choice becomes obsolete.
i could give you yellow, blue or red. any color would be the same. now that the light has left us.
we could trust the bridges to take us there. but we'd only regret it.
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