They seem like stars distant, shifting to red
Of galaxies drifting, further as I breathe
Yet those words sing
They may not be too many, often 3 or 4
Yet they are just as bright
Some cold, some warming, Yet equally captivating
Mine don't reach, nor compare
The strings of words, fail to even graze
The wall you have put before me
Like a midieval warring sieging foot soldier
I climb those walls of fire
Only to scathe, my hands, soles, and soul
In your standoff, you manage to burn to embers
My want to reach, my soul's yearning
In these warring times, I often find me swimming
In your moat, wrestling your alligators
Only to not kill them, but be bitten, just so
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