Froze

Ever renewing, never reborn
'Tis not the stand,
But the stumbling that leaves us torn

And yet we waver, 'twixt faith and belief
But without indecision
We'd know naught but grief

Only this, only that- such comforts to the digital mind
A dam in the river, a chair from a tree
And our names soldered, rather than signed

Spur of the moment poem, sorry.

The older I get, the better I was :/