And so once again, I'm rhyming things…

Love has been
a blinding thing
On the road, a
winding thing

[I was blind,
but never was I
fooled]

On the verge, I'm
rhyming things
Alone I sit,
defining things

[Love has pushed,
but never has it
pulled]

Love has shoved
I'm timing things
from the edge, aligning things

[And how much further
could we really go?]

But from the ground,
I'm climbing things,
as what's the use
defining things
that we'll never understand
and never really know?