A never ending chase of the impossible,

Running and running to make it possible.

Try to grasp it,

And relish the joy of holding it in your hand.

Yet it quickly flutters away,

One that you shall never find fully.

Again.

Yet through quick glimpses,

Of the fiery woods,

You see what you are looking for,

The being that was always there,

One that seems is never fair.

The Wings of White flutter by,

On and on into the night sky.