A dusty planet on the shelf,
A muse contented with herself,
A stallion charging to nowhere,
An oil lamp needing repair--

These four and more were holding fast,
Hanging above the fire’s blast,
Idols of a motive force,
Forever halted in their course.

A breeze traced o’er their lifeless forms,
Stirring dust but not their norms,
Yet their forms were stirring souls,
Igniting hearts bent on their goals.