I walked beneath uncounted years, With visions in my head, I feasted on tomorrow’s feast, And starved on bread instead. The present was a colder guest, It never spoke my name, Yet every night I wore success And won a victor’s game. O Future, bright and full of flame, You swore I’d one day rise I built my house of shining glass, And called your voice the skies. --- The student dreamed of scholar’s robes, The worker of his post, The drifter of a gilded hall, Each chasing what he lost. But mornings came with empty hands, No door was ever wide; The hymns I sang to keep alive Were only lullabies. O Future, bright but walking past, You left me at the gate I traded all my waking hours, And still you bid me wait. --- Now years have stiffened into stone, My springtime days are gone, My hair the color of burnt page, Yet still I stumble on. The crowns I wore in sleep dissolve, Their jewels are shards of sand, Yet still I clutch their phantom weight With weak, unsteady hands. O Future, fading, cold, and cruel, You hollowed out my years My heart now creaks like broken wheels, My eyes corrode with gears. --- And still I say, “Tomorrow then, I’ll try just one last time,” The same refrain I whispered once When youth was still in prime. But dawn returns, and I lie still, Too frightened now to leap For sweeter is the dream of gold Than waking from its sleep. O Future, grave I dare not face, You’ve bound me in your keep Too late to rise, too late to run, I only dream, and sleep.