The drip is not the flood and not the roar and not the wave,
The drip is the persistent and the patient and the brave,
Application of the cold and the precise and the deliberate,
And the drip is what I have been doing and the drip is what I merit.
Not merit in the seeking of approval or the praise,
Merit in the earning of the right to these deliberate days,
Of the drip of the cold fury on the specific and the stone,
And the drip is what has been consistent and what I have known.
The drip, the persistent and the cold and the precise,
The drip, the method of the patient and the vice,
Of the steady and the slow and the deliberately chose,
The drip is how the cold fury grows and grows.
The drip does not announce itself with volume or with show,
The drip is below the audible and below the visible glow,
Of the easily detectable and the obviously there,
And the drip is how I have been applying the cold fury with care.
Every drip has added to the record and the proof,
Every drip has added one more layer to the roof,
Of the deliberate and the cold and the patient and the real,
And the drip is everything the calculated fury can feel.
The drip has been doing its work for a long and patient time,
The drip has been doing its work through every reason and every rhyme,
That you offered as the explanation of why it should stop,
And the drip is still the drip and the drip will not stop.