When you start writing
Without a title
The unfolding makes its own narrative
The driving makes for its own navigation
The ramble makes for the intended direction
When a path is just the sum of the footfalls
And a dream is as subconscious as a dream
When free will doesn't matter
For there is no willing happening
That's what the dance
Derived from the feet
Without instructions from the brain
Sending the signal
That you're in the moment
Fully present to time
Without the tyranny of the past
Or the terror of the future
The music is the guide
Playing off where it can't be heard
And then when it's all over
You look back
And see something coherent
And thus
A name is earned
Roman Ryan 