I’ve heard the acclamations
of bathers at my fountain
just struts of validation
that snap when straws surmount them
that care not for my preludes
to times alone so seizing
as what ifs start a deluge
of heartbeats squeezed by reason
that never pays the ransom
when probably’s the ending
when will I ever dance on
from molehills and pretending?
to rule the skies, uncaring
to those who may not follow
but can I be so daring
if I am just one swallow?