adrift in the future’s shadow my mind wanders, morose and aimless.
i wonder at how what has been will effect what will be.
how the roof over my head makes me comfortable now for tomorrow,
how too many tomorrows will make me tired,
how too many decades of tomorrows will make me weak,
how too many ages of tomorrows will make my kind absent;
how the wheels on my car make me able now for tomorrow,
how too many tomorrows will make me lazy,
how too many decades of tomorrows will make me unable,
how too many ages of tomorrows will make my kind absent.
none approach the future but that they grow old and fade
in the shadow’s way, stretched and thin and pale;
and of all we will not be here to see the end of ends
as the spectators we so easily feel we have the right to be,
and there is no road returning.