Half the Brilliance

Those silly notions,
Dancing upon old drums
To mere rhythms that slap
On the fine mesh air!

Fancy did finger, surely,
Strum the wisps of will
Til they frayed and waxed
Like old sailor's knots.

If only, if only
They were smooth
And not splintered,
Like all the other planks
Where I chanced a plunge.