Of flying horses, I'm the beginning Of city in Canada, I am the end When camping outside, I'm used for pinning tents to the ground, as is the trend

Reaching for the heavens, a needle in the skyline, a steeple without the sermon, where winds whisper secrets to the sky.

I guard the sands where secrets sleep, With lion’s strength and wisdom deep. I ask no words, yet riddles cling, To ancient stone and silent wing. Part beast, part thought, part mythic link. Name me now, what do you think?

In the embrace of misty hills, where streams softly murmur and secrets of the earth lay still, nature's hollow cradles life.

Along the road, I draw a line, To separate paths, I define. Not a wall, but I divide, By day, unnoticed, at night, I gleam, What am I in this urban scheme?