See. No, where'd the vision run.
Sprinted past, lightning fast
on the horizon now, tired, looking cumbersome.
Should go to aid, or walk on and let perfection fade
unto a memorial umbrella, to protect from the rain
or act as a sail amidst the gale
and to be the inner fire, to soften the hail.
But alas.....
Maybe one day we'll meet again
and have the rest of our life, to reconcile.