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.