The all seeing eye that mocks me.
I lay in the fire and I will not burn.
I dance in the rain and it stops before I am wet.
The snow remains ice before it will be warm enough to feel.
It is never warm enough.
I feel nothing.
The hand of light lays outside my grasp.
I jump the height and only fly.
I run the cliff and drift down softly.
The drop becomes high before it will danger the falling.
It is never high enough.
There's no danger.
But never success.