We dance on the edge of the future, my friend,
Blind as a beetle and deaf as a log;
Mime with me, sing with me— where is the end
Of yesterday’s certainties?  Fly like a dog,
Quack like a kangaroo, hunt like a hare,
Whatever we dare to imagine or mould
Makes barely a footprint on Destiny’s stair,
Its herald forgotten, it’s shadow foretold.
And always behind us, the ghosts of our lies
Are keening a dirge from the dust of the dead;
We tunnel and hum, averting our eyes
From the slag-heaped pits where the past was bred.
  Courage, my friend!  We are creatures of chance,
  This ledge of the future seems solid— now dance!