Balanced between Beethoven and Thunder,
We are all Destiny’s children,
Walking – whether we know it or not –
With our Fates and our phantoms.
This day our honest money is unacceptable,
We cannot climb the tower.
We cool our jets instead;
No wind, no forward speed:
The patient river of friendship
Smoothes our broken edges.
The new-old voices of rock
Loud again in
The still air.