Intangible

In a moment of despair
my battle is unwinding,
I catch a glimpse of what might have been
and urge myself to turn around,
to resist,
to persevere.
Weakened soul and frail heart,
twinge in the possibility of faint warmth.
Relentlessly they have stood,
proud,
brave,
for an ideal they hold up high.
As high as where you are,
and which they know they'll never reach.