Wherethrough all things are turning  
should the burning thus consume.
Yet, why should gentle fire  
then be likened unto doom?

Beget is transformation’s
integration of desire.
Unfettered from the weathered rung:
unstuck am I from mire.

Such lighter air,
now, too, aware.
To act, in fact, for change.
To try my hand, be my own man,
thus broadening my range.  

Tho ev’ry loss comes with a toss,
the coin is bound to land.
Whence wholesome heaven’s rendered dross,
upon my own two legs I stand.