If my words were to glow
If they like a mighty river to the equator flow

As mighty as sequoias grow
Aspiring to stand and hold their ground
Would my words reach as high
Could they turn to and astound

When I look to find
the fire that others tell
I choke on the smoke and heat
that their breath of words exhale

But my words fall as hard and fast
as Autuum's Mourning Doves to the hunter's blast

With some only wounded in their pending plight  
The ending to fledgling desires
Denied of the right to flight