I am not brave, not big and strong, and change gives me the creeps,
But when the moment comes along, my crawling turns to leaps,
Because my innate sense of time and self and hope, my drive,
And spring to action, and I will push onward to the skies,
For all that lies ahead is unknown, hid, but what may be
How will I, short of happenstance, find anything I need,
Or grow, improve, achieve, emerge? How can my sorrows sleep?