The pond is calling,
And it’s asking me why I turned my back.
It reflects on my path and on my falling,
And it looks away when the blow turned into a smack.
Two worlds diverged;
I chose the lesser of the two.
Though, in tact, I emerged,
I had to draw the line at you.
Had I gone to the pond,
None of this would have spawned.
Had I gone with my gut,
This tie would have inevitably been cut.
So it’s all coming together,
Yet it’s still all up in the air.
I’ll wait for better weather;
And try to be wise.
I’ll divert another collision.
From this fall, I will rise.