“Walk on water, it’ll be all right,”*
She says to me,
And I know I’ve found either God
Or His adversary,
Fifty-fifty shot either way,
And the odds are my favour,
Fifty one-forty nine,
Perhaps,
And here, now,
In the open ocean,
On the edge of the raft,
Standing spread-armed and close-eyed
On the ledge of some great precipice,
I take a leap
Of faith.