My blood so lost upon a candles wick,
My heart it beats so true,
The fire within enclaves the stick,
And burns it all but through.
It’s smelting warmth felt to my skin,
The pace all lost in pride,
The heat did burn, yet not in vain,
My mortal sprinting tide.
No waters could expire the love,
It beats, though weak at times.
A thousand whales and elephants,
All beating beats with mine.
As nature sits so patiently,
Awaiting morn of dawn.
I sit and also wait so graciously,
For day to sing it’s song.