From A to B, my temper holds stronger than if still, for I can't see a destination stronger than my will.
Moving breaks my static gaze as reels of passing art leave their mark and fall away but just in perpetual shift may they stretch out time for me and stay.
My pangs are lost in deep transition as we reach towards B from A, and I look ahead to C, dare I say: As life winds up its next stretched reel, my will on that way would be stronger still.