Eye the spinning coin,
teach me how to trace its fall.
I know no eye,
but in this twirling see it all.
What guides the turns that make a wheel,
what fortune, blind or free,
could guide us to an evening meal,
or toss us out to sea?
And is there no coincidence
in the flood of fortune's dance?
Or is there truly no defense
in a game that's ruled by chance?
But what if wind or surface
could cajole a whirling fall?
Why should I feel so nervous
to see order here at all?
And could I learn to build a sail
to cross the glassy sea?
I'll navigate, and I'll not fail,
from what is to what might be.
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