Determination It's not the sparks that leap to bite the sky, the thrill of flames that chase the cold; the warmth I crave is deep, and I'll not rest until the coals themselves I hold. It's not a fragrance poured from twisted lips, its scent diffusing as it drains from life already cored; I want the truth, unbent, and dew that leaves no stains. It's not the steps of mute compliance, nor the pace of those who claim they've won; my pain may be acute at times, but it's my race -- and I have just begun.