A breeze in a whirlwind
that proclaims it's own power,
a blade of cut grass
that believes it a tower.

A whisper of sound
that vacuously calls,
to the heavens above
as it helplessly falls.

Fatuous failings
to any that see,
yet hope on horizons
to someone like me.

Absurd though the logic,
the urge stronger still,
to proclaim to the world,
'This is my will!'.

As a light in the day
that shines unaware,
for those who give all
to those who don't care.

Ludicrous dreams
in derisory scalings,
to help show the power
of fatuous failings.