Wish and care, these can only go so far

Caring is

An expense to heart

Just as wishing is

No more closer to reason than stars

And I

Combine both with a will

A workers fist

To be iron and ore

In the pursuit of truth

And this

Whatever you call this

Is none of those things, for sure

But in fact the opposite

Of whatever misguided vision you seek

For as certainly as I am

Then you also exist

And that ever you have done

I think of

As nothing more than a miss

And misguided in truth

Yet my caring still is

Or was