The following is what drives me to improve my poetry, and is far enough away that I will always keep writing it, the top of the mountain is nice but not yet

Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century
And everyone of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul
From me to you
Tangled up in blue