Who is fate?

My soaring hope and fitful dreams

Have not sprung from common springs.

Like the bright ever passing sun

And the always hushed outspoken one.

My frightful thoughts and shooting pain

Are simply things to come and wan.

Not built to hold this dreary weight

Taught to leave it upon the fates.

But stop! For I am all that is the key

and I believe in no such thing as destiny.

There is no forcing me; hold, hold

I am not the kind to let things unfold.